


It Takes Seven Days (For My Feelings to Rise)

by yozra



Series: Tales from the Tea Room [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-30 05:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17823077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yozra/pseuds/yozra
Summary: Iwaizumi wants to bake in peace. Oikawa wants milk bread (and the person who bakes the milk bread.)





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> To new readers of this series:
> 
> Hello! Thank you for dropping in! While I don't want to put you off from continuing further, I very, very, _very_ strongly urge you to read (or at the very least skim read) the first of this series, [Steeped in You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17382410), because this story assumes you know the backstory and also contains a lot of spoilers.
> 
> To existing readers of this series:
> 
> Welcome back! My short break was non-existent.

Baking was Iwaizumi’s calling.  
  
Those were the final words imparted to him by his tutor just before Iwaizumi stepped out of the door of his last workplace. Did he agree? He didn’t know. To him, a calling was a job was a profession was a career – in other words they all used the same chunk of his time and were a practical means for him to survive modern life. He supposed he could say it also helped on an emotional level; he was practically spending the whole day meditating.  
  
The old man who instructed him had never entered himself in prestigious competitions and didn’t belong to any committees, but in Iwaizumi's eyes he was a master. His bakery was so tucked away it never received any media coverage, always escaping the clutches of whichever camera crew was stalking the streets for a story they could use on a TV show, and receiving only a handful of reviews online if you happened to accidentally click the tiny dot on the maps after a stupidly specific search of the area. It was famous among the locals though, almost like a well-kept secret of the community and if you wanted to find it, you damn well made sure you did the hard work to reap the rewards.  
  
Or you got lucky after days of searching online, throwing the mouse at the keyboard in defeat and accidentally clicking a link to a local forum mentioning the name of the ‘absolutely mouthwatering’ bakery in a passing comment, which was the start of how Iwaizumi became an apprentice and spent four years learning the craft. It was never his intention to become a baker; he just happened to work part time at a cheap bakery chain around the corner from his university, and then unable to secure a ‘real job’ decided to apply to a bakery that actually cared about ingredients and processes and producing wholesome food.  
  
Then he received a call from Akaashi to discuss working full time at his aunt’s tea house, which had become his tea house. Akaashi was the single good friend he kept in touch with and was willing to go out of his way to help, so he accepted, eventually, after the old man kicked him out when finding out that Iwaizumi initially declined because he believed he wasn’t good enough to run a kitchen of his own.  
  
Baking was the only thing Iwaizumi knew how to do half-decently without losing his mind, so he decided he might as well stick with it.  
  
And here he was now, nearing his fourth year at the tea room, power walking and muttering a curse or two between ragged breaths the entire forty minutes to work because he crashed after a 36 hour stint and missed his alarm (and because he was out of shape and was in serious need of adding a weekly workout to his schedule.) Akaashi wouldn’t blink an eye if he was late; Iwaizumi was a Responsible Adult who was capable of managing his own time, thanks very much, but principles mattered. And so did timing, humidity, temperature, and countless other fine adjustments needed to bake the softest pillows to tuck in sandwich fillings or the deceptively bare and stodgy-looking cushions that were actually lofty, crumbly, golden clouds of paradise ready to be enveloped in ruby and milky-quartz robes.  
  
(Those were descriptions given by his tutor; Iwaizumi was a natural at baking, not a natural with words.)  
  
Iwaizumi kept his eyes on the road, the backstreets still dark except for the occasional pool of light from a lamppost. At the tea room he turned into the narrow side path leading into a tiny square out back, and—

Someone was there sitting on the crate, their face lit by the phone in their hand, too dim to make out their features. He had never had a problem with drunks and he never thought he would on a Monday morning.  
  
Obviously there was a first time for everything.  
  
“Get off the property before I throw you onto the street,” he growled.  
  
“Well, that’s rude considering how long you’ve made me wait here!” The person – a man by the sound of his voice – said, without looking up from his phone.  
  
Iwaizumi frowned. He felt like he should recall the voice from somewhere. Fumbling for his own phone, he turned on the torch and showed no mercy to the trespasser, shining the light directly at the man now bringing his hand up to cover his eyes.  
  
“Do you mind? I’d still like to be able to see.”  
  
Iwaizumi didn’t move. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
  
It was that customer who insulted him – Oikawa, he remembered, because he heard the friend sitting next to him utter the name and seared it into his memory. Oikawa who insulted his skills that were praised by all of his employers and customers, past and present. In fact, he had never received a single complaint. A kind word of advice or suggestion here and there, sure, but not an outright complaint. And this guy had tarnished his reputation – granted his own reputation of himself, but what he knew now couldn’t be unknown, so his perfect track record was ruined.  
  
“You come to complain some more?”  
  
“Actually, I was hoping we could talk,” Oikawa replied, standing up with his hand still shielding his eyes. “Preferably without being blinded or having anything thrown at my head.”  
  
Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. “Who told you that?”  
  
“I have my sources. Can we go inside? I’ve been sitting out here for at least half an hour.”  
  
Iwaizumi was tempted to leave him outside. Then again, he had a feeling the man thrived on theatrics and he didn’t want Akaashi to get a reputation for disrupting the neighbourhood.  
  
And the inside was just as cold as out, so he’d still suffer.  
  
“Get out of the way.”  
  
Oikawa moved aside to allow Iwaizumi to unlock the door and push it open. He turned on the lights, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness then turned round, crossing his arms and preventing Oikawa from coming in further than the door mat.  
  
“So?” Iwaizumi asked to Oikawa, who closed the door behind him and rubbed his hands together.  
  
“Aren’t you going to turn the heating on?”  
  
“No.” Iwaizumi didn’t turn the heating on because he turned the ovens on to warm the room, but he wasn’t about to disclose that.  
  
“Fine. I came to offer my heartfelt apologies,” Oikawa said, not sounding apologetic – if anything he sounded like Iwaizumi should be grateful for receiving an apology – adding a smile that Iwaizumi assumed Oikawa thought was apologetic. Iwaizumi wanted to knock the fake smirk off his face. “I shouldn’t have pushed my amateurish opinion onto you when, as the culinary practitioner, you’re the more seasoned between the two of us.”  
  
Iwaizumi waited to give him a chance to continue.  
  
“And that’s it?” Each word was clearly pronounced, in case the man was too stupid to take the hint.  
  
“Well, I can’t really apologise for liking the things I like in the way I like them, but I do regret blowing it out of proportion and causing you offence.”  
  
“So – what? You seemed pretty confident about your opinion when you said them. Three times. That my baking is shit.”  
  
The smile faltered a second, but it was moulded back into the earlier apologetic mask. “No one likes a person who intentionally misrepresents the facts, Iwa-chan.”  
  
“But bullshitting’s okay? Admit it, the sole reason you’re here is to get me to unban you so you can eat the milk bread,” Iwaizumi called him out.  
  
“Yes, about that – I want to know exactly how you found out.”  
  
“You’re not the only one with ‘sources.’”  
  
The milk break incident. It wasn’t his idea but one of the man’s friends – the one with the crazy black hair – who barged into the kitchen mistaking it for the men’s and after five minutes of mindless talk suggested baking milk bread to get back at Oikawa. Iwaizumi wasn’t one to do something for someone else’s amusement. And he wasn’t petty. But he was pretty pissed and – yeah, okay, he was petty. He also couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.  
  
Oikawa sighed, dropping the facade. “Well, I’m not going to deny that’s partially the reason. But I really do think we got off on the wrong foot and I’d like it if we could start over.”  
  
Finally, a comment that was genuine. Iwaizumi pulled his coat off and hung it up on the hooks next to the door, then made a grab for the apron. Talking to this guy was a waste of time. “You’ll have to do a lot better than that to convince me you’re sorry.”  
  
“Oh?” Oikawa smirked. “And what are you suggesting I do?”  
  
Iwaizumi stopped halfway through tying a knot, his frown wiped clean. “I don’t know what you think I’m suggesting, but if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, I’ll do more than throw something at your head.”  
  
The smirk only grew wider at the threat.  
  
“Right, you know what—” Iwaizumi shoved Oikawa – no, he was now upgraded to the rank of _asshole_ – aside to open the door. “Thanks to you, my day’s ruined from having to listen to your innuendos and pisspoor attempt at apologising, so you can get out of my face, and out of my kitchen, and preferably out of my life. And forget about the milk bread – I’m never baking those things again.”  
  
Iwaizumi was impressed he had enough self-control to just hold the door open and not shove him out. Oikawa – _asshole_ , Iwaizumi corrected – watched him for a second, like he was fascinated, like he was entertained, like he was _not_ _goddamn sorry at all_ , and Iwaizumi seriously considered grabbing him by his coat and tossing him face first through the door.  
  
Thankfully Oikawa stepped outside before Iwaizumi snapped.  
  
“I’ll be back, Iwa-chan!”  
  
“Fucking stop with the _Iwa-chan_ , you – you _Asskawa_!”  
  
He heard a gasp as he flung the door closed, snatching the handle at the very last second so it was a pointedly firm thud instead of a violent slam, reminding himself it was still morning. His whole body was shaking from the exchange and only when the blur behind the glass walked away did his breathing begin to even. He began tying his apron again, forming the beginnings of a speech to Akaashi about permanently banning the asshole from the tea room altogether.

 

  
*

 

  
Oikawa was a firm believer that whenever anyone insisted love at first sight, what they really meant to say was lust at first sight; he should know, he manipulated people’s desires for a living so they lusted after products they didn’t even know they wanted.  
  
(He also liked to point out to anyone who doubted the legitimacy of his work that he advertised what he would or could incorporate into his own lifestyle and didn’t just grab whatever money or publicity thrown in his direction, thank you very much.)  
  
So when he caught sight of Iwaizumi appearing from the back of the tea room he knew it wasn’t love, because while the baker’s smouldering glare fired up his heart to set it racing at full speed, the spark closer to his groin ignited lewd images of the man lying naked in his bed and wasn’t that a sight he wished would turn into reality.  
  
Except he had gone and offended the man. The extremely attractive man with arms that could probably crush him (but he was still intact even after everything he said, so that right there was a sure sign of affection.) And not only was that a problem (the offending part, not the arms) Oikawa was so used to being fawned over and accepting other people’s advances, he wasn’t sure what to do when it came down to him making advances.  
  
The first step was rather straightforward: make Iwaizumi not hate him.  
  
The result of the morning’s confrontation left much to be desired, almost making him think he had lost his appeal until he tried smooth talking the barista at the cafe where he liked to work. He ended up with the barista’s number (which before meeting Iwaizumi he would have definitely called, but now he was enamoured with only one person) so clearly it wasn’t the question of charm, but Iwaizumi’s personality.  
  
Oikawa flicked through his phone, switching from an SNS feed to his inbox to an online article. Beside him was Matsukawa flicking through a catalogue. Both were waiting in the backroom of a department store for the shop assistant to figure out what happened to the clothes they were supposed to be taking home to photograph and promote before returning them to the store.  
  
Oikawa swiped back a page and clicked the link titled ‘creative apology gifts’ underneath the one for ‘best apology gifts’ he had just finished reading.  
  
He turned to Matsukawa. “What does Iwa-chan like?”  
  
Matsukawa turned the page, his eyes travelling over the photographs. “Peace and quiet.”  
  
“No, no, I need something I can realistically give him.”  
  
“Oh, you mean something tangible that’s in line with the consumeristic nature of your profession.”  
  
“Replace the cynicism with romanticism but essentially – yes.”  
  
Matsukawa fell into silence, which Oikawa originally thought was him mediating on a profound answer until it continued on for too long, and he was about to give him a nudge when Matsukawa opened his mouth to bestow his wisdom.  
  
“Iwaizumi’s a simple guy who hates pretence and excess. Offer a heartfelt apology, he’ll appreciate that the most.”  
  
If the cold feeling washing over him was his conscience reminding him of his behaviour this morning, Oikawa ignored it.  
  
“It didn’t work! Is there anything he needs?”  
  
That grabbed Matsukawa’s attention. He was looking at him with his poker face. As a master conjurer and wearer of masks himself, Oikawa could decipher several meanings: scepticism that a heartfelt apology was made, torment in having to have this conversation, and an impenetrable layer which held the answer Oikawa sought.  
  
Matsukawa turned back to his original task of rudely ignoring Oikawa.  
  
“What was that? Mattsun, you know something! Tell me!”  
  
“No.”  
  
Oikawa toppled sideways onto Matsukawa’s shoulder hoping the physical weight would pressure him into speaking. “Why?!”  
  
“Iwaizumi’s hot headed when he’s provoked, but he’s not unreasonable. Give him something half-baked, he’s going to throw it back in your face and demand double to perfection or nothing at all – think about his profession.” Matsukawa glanced at him. “Can you honestly say you did everything you can to right the situation?”  
  
Matsukawa’s stare had a way of pinning people down to accept the discomforting truth lurking in the dark corners of their soul. Oikawa meekly kept quiet.  
  
Matsukawa returned to his catalogue. “There you go.”  
  
Oikawa chewed over the advice. So he may have been slightly arrogant. He would just go and apologise again.  
  
There was one slight problem.  
  
“Where does Iwa-chan live?”  
  
“Ah, the classic stalking technique. Very smooth.”  
  
“The tea room’s closed tomorrow and I can’t waste a whole day!”  
  
“Are you afraid someone will snatch him up in that one day?”  
  
Matsukawa was aware of Oikawa’s tendency to prefer short-lived sexual encounters to long-term relationships. Oikawa considered it a trait that was consistent to all areas of his lifestyle; he flitted between temporary jobs and fleeting interactions – why would his relationships be any different? He still gave it his all, just the timespan was much shorter than average.  
  
While he naturally assumed it would be the same with Iwaizumi, the idea of anyone else touching Iwaizumi made him simmer.  
  
“I just want to smooth things over.”  
  
Matsukawa looked up and Oikawa had to wonder what dramatic expression he wore on his face to have him actually close his catalogue with a sigh and pull out his phone.  
  
“I don’t want to do this.”  
  
Oikawa beamed. “You’ll thank me when Iwa-chan turns the kitchen into a place of laughter and smiles because of my adorable influence.”  
  
“No, I mean rely on Hanamaki. The matchmaking business will get to his head.”  
  
Matsukawa put the phone to his ear and waited.  
  
“Hanamaki. Where does Iwaizumi live? …No, I’m still working… it’s for Oikawa.”  
  
Matsukawa held out his phone. “He wants to talk to you.”  
  
Oikawa grabbed the phone off him, yelling, “Makki! Do you know—”  
  
“ _Yes, I do,”_ Hanamaki cut him off with his no-nonsense attitude that was probably for show. _“But before we get into that, what’s in it for me?_ ”  
  
Oikawa had never met Hanamaki before visiting the tea room and only knew whatever bits of his character he could draw out from Matsukawa – his fondness for sweets one of them.  
  
“I’m finalising the details to cover an all-you-can-eat dessert buffet – it’s a limited edition, seasonal offer at one of the fancier patisseries in Tokyo. I could easily ask they include a plus one. There’s everything you can think of.”  
  
Matsukawa snorted. “Exploiting weaknesses?”  
  
Oikawa mouthed, _I know yours too._  
  
“ _Everything?_ ” Hanamaki finally said.  
  
“Makki. There will be croquembouche.”  
  
Another pause, but Oikawa knew Hanamaki was sold. “ _He can’t know I told you._ ”  
  
Oikawa rolled his eyes even though it wasn’t visible. “I know _that_. I’ll say it was – what’s-his-name, the one Mattsun said you consider your lifelong rival.”  
  
“ _I like the way you think, but Iwaizumi won’t buy that. Say it was Matsukawa and let me handle him._ ”  
  
Oikawa flashed a look towards Matsukawa that had him raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Do we have a deal?”  
  
“ _Get my number off his phone and message me_.”  
  
“Pleasure doing business with you.”  
  
The line went dead and Oikawa typed the number into his phone.  
  
“I like Makki,” Oikawa officially announced as he returned Matsukawa’s phone to him.  
  
“Now there are two things I regret,” Matsukawa said levelly.  
  
Oikawa wrote a short greeting consisting of sparkles and smiley faces, and Matsukawa paged through the catalogue again.  
  
“Where did Iwa-chan work before the tea room?”  
  
Oikawa successfully stopped Matsukawa a second time. This time however, Matsukawa pressed for him to elaborate in silence, blatantly eyeing him up.  
  
“You said it yourself – he wants double, fully baked to perfection. I can work my magic whatever the scenario but having the right accessory adds a certain irresistible flair, don’t you think?”  
  
“For all you know it could be in Hokkaido – or abroad.”  
  
“Hokkaido is doable, outside of Japan is – admittedly a little more difficult, but I’m sure I could find a way. There’s nothing Oikawa-san can’t do!”  
  
“Except apologise to Iwaizumi.”  
  
Oikawa graciously batted aside the jab with a wave of his hand. “It’s not possible for anyone to spot Iwa-chan’s delicate sensitivities beneath his spiky exterior. I made an error of judgement and I plan on correcting it.”  
  
Matsukawa said nothing for a few moments, but Oikawa didn’t press him this time.  
  
Seeing the corner of Matsukawa’s lips curl was more gratifying than working on projects with any company or person he admired.  
  
“Give me your phone, I’ll find it for you.”


	2. Tuesday

On the rare occasion Iwaizumi met someone new, he always surprised them with his profession because they assumed from his looks that he was a coffee-and-croissant kind of guy than a tea-and-cake kind of guy. He could almost see them try to talk themselves into the whole ‘don’t judge a person based on appearance’ thing, and they would smile and nod after accepting this newfound understanding, following it up with questions about his baking and whether he could nab a secret scone while working (answer: he didn’t need to because he was a Responsible Adult who could be trusted to taste what he needed, when he needed to.)  
  
In this case though, their gut reaction was right; Iwaizumi was a coffee-and-croissant kind of guy.  
  
Fifteen minutes train ride away from his stop was a cafe that made average-tasting croissants but a mean cup of coffee. It was hard to get the best of both worlds – at one place the coffee might be great but the croissant too doughy to the point of being under baked, at another the croissant might have a decent number of layers, but the coffee so sour it was almost worse than the commercial stuff. Seeing as he could make himself a croissant if he wanted to, Iwaizumi went for the place with the better coffee, so this was now his Tuesday morning haunt. He would order one of each and spend an hour or so sitting at the counter to watch people drift by or flip through one of their magazines, and every couple of weeks he’d buy a bag of their beans that pulled him through the mornings of the other six days.  
  
On his way back he would stop by the video rental store that was near his station for a film or two to watch in the afternoon – most of the time this consisted of old-school monster films. He would then rustle up a simple meal, typically Japanese, watch some TV, and go to bed. This was all it took for him to recharge.  
  
Today was off to a good start. Inside his rucksack was a bag of coffee beans that was discounted because the cafe was doing a three year anniversary sale, and the latest Godzilla film he had finally managed to get hold of after a two month wait. He reached his apartment – a battered looking four-storey without an elevator – taking the flight of stairs up to the third floor and—  
  
Someone was sitting there leaning against his door, hunched over their phone, and this time the day was bright enough for him to see exactly who it was.  
  
“Tell me I’m hallucinating,” Iwaizumi said, coming to a halt halfway up the stairs.  
  
Oikawa looked up. “Good morning to you too! I only had to wait ten minutes this time, Iwa-chan’s timing is improving.”  
  
“How the hell do you know where I live?!” His voice echoed in the bare concrete staircase and he tried to restrain the rising feeling in his chest.  
  
“Mattsun told me!”  
  
“Mattsun? Who the hell is Matts – _Matsukawa_? Why do you know him?!”  
  
“We work together sometimes!”  
  
Iwaizumi made the rest of the way up the stairs as Oikawa pushed himself off the floor, vaguely recalling Matsukawa maybe mentioning he did… something other than waiting.  
  
“What part of ‘out of my life’ didn’t you get?” he demanded, realising only now that he had to look up to meet Oikawa’s eyes and that fact _really_ got under his skin.  
  
“But I told you I’d come back,” Oikawa said matter-of-factly. “I wanted to apologise again for what happened.”  
  
Iwaizumi rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t want to hear it.”  
  
“Iwa-chan, give me a chance—”  
  
“ _I gave you a chance already!_ ”  
  
Iwaizumi flinched at the loudness that likely reached all four floors and possibly spilled over outside, and he mentally kicked himself for losing his grip. He took a deep breath.  
  
Oikawa was analysing him, his smile gone and eyes serious.  
  
“Is that what they teach you when you learn to bake? That you only have one chance for perfection or you fail to qualify?”  
  
Iwaizumi opened his mouth but nothing came out as he repeated the questions in his head. Did the guy seriously just use a baking analogy against him?  
  
Oikawa held up his arm that had been hidden from view dangling a plastic bag like bait, and Iwaizumi decided he really must be hallucinating because there was no way the translucent red bag bulging with at least two wrapped sticks he was sure were baguettes sticking out from the top was the same as the one from where he used to work.  
  
“Or maybe they tell you to try again until you get it right.”  
  
How did Oikawa even know? The lingering aroma of bread confirmed it was freshly baked this morning. If that was the case, Oikawa had travelled the hour and a half by train to the coast south of Tokyo, followed it up with a twenty minute walk to arrive at the shop for opening, and made a return trip to have this ready in time for—  
  
Iwaizumi glanced at his watch – just past eleven thirty.  
  
He was equal parts annoyed and impressed and overwhelmed.  
  
“You’re an asshole,” he said. It lacked any bite.  
  
“Iwa-chan, there are more appropriate words like ‘generous’ or ‘thoughtful’ – I’ll even take ‘persistent,’” Oikawa replied brightly.  
  
Iwaizumi glared at Oikawa. He wasn’t going to bake milk bread. But the guy had gone and bought bread from his favourite bakery, so he (unfortunately) deserved some kind of a break.  
  
Iwaizumi stuck out his hand. “Apology accepted.”  
  
Oikawa whipped the bag away and clutched it to his chest. “Iwa-chan! Aren’t you going to invite me in after all the effort I went into buying these?”  
  
“Why would I invite someone I don’t know into my home?”  
  
“So we can get to know each other over a lunch of freshly baked bread! Besides, as friends of friends who are getting together, that automatically makes us friends!”  
  
Iwaizumi hated the logic and he hated that Oikawa had the advantage, but he would hate himself more if he kept that favour to be chipped in at a later date. They could call it even if he grit his teeth and bore the pain now.  
  
And the part of him wanting to taste the bread was too strong.  
  
“I’m kicking you out if you stay longer than an hour,” Iwaizumi warned, pulling his keys out.  
  
“Perfect! While I would love nothing more than to spend the whole day with you, I have a meeting at one so you can keep track of time for me.”  
  
Iwaizumi pretended the thought of Oikawa taking the four hour trip only to go to work in the afternoon didn’t affect him in any way whatsoever as he unlocked the door that led straight into the living room, kicking off his shoes at the entrance and leaving the door open for his unwelcome guest.  
  
“Iwa-chan’s home,” Oikawa said in awe as he closed the door. “I like the minimalist look you’re going for – very chic.”  
  
Iwaizumi didn’t know about it being ‘chic’. His apartment was a simple mix of blue-greys against the whites of the walls and whitewashed floors and contained the bare minimum of furniture, although he had been thinking of adding a rug, especially for the winter when the floors were too cold. He also often thought about hanging up a picture – maybe an old movie poster – but he’d talk himself out of it, imagining it might ruin the quiet of the room.  
  
“I’ve always lived like this,” Iwaizumi said with a frown. “I don’t do trends.”  
  
“That, I do believe,” Oikawa agreed. “It’s nice. It’s very you.”  
  
Iwaizumi caught himself feeling – what? Pleased? Because he had Oikawa’s approval? Iwaizumi headed to the kitchen in the corner and dropped the bag onto the counter, telling himself that the guy was only being nice to wheedle his way into getting milk bread.  
  
“I’ve only got coffee,” Iwaizumi called. “Or milk. Water. Take your pick.”  
  
Iwaizumi poured the beans into the coffee grinder -not yet entirely convinced this wasn’t his imagination he was going to make a strong cup of coffee for himself whether or not Oikawa asked for it.  
  
“Is Akaashi-chan aware you’re a traitor to tea?” Oikawa sounded appalled.  
  
“We’ve been friends since university so yeah, he knows what I like. Just cause I work at a tea room doesn’t mean I have to live off the stuff. Just cause I don’t have any at home doesn’t mean I don’t drink it.”  
  
Akaashi made him tea all the time – after coming into work at noon, during a lull when all the customers had been served in the afternoon, before the dinner break in the evening. It was probably why Iwaizumi didn’t have the stuff at home, he drank enough of it at work.  
  
“I guess I’ll have the coffee then.” Iwaizumi heard footsteps approaching and felt Oikawa hovering behind his shoulder. “I feel as a Japanese person you should at least have green tea. What if a guest comes over and they don’t like coffee?”  
  
“I don’t have guests over.”  
  
“Let me rephrase that – what if I come over and I don’t want coffee?”  
  
“Not that I’d let you in, but you’d get a choice of milk or water. You like milk bread, that shouldn’t be a problem.”  
  
A beat – then Oikawa burst out laughing, a soft, airy sound right by his ear that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.  
  
Iwaizumi tightened his grip on the grinder.  
  
“You can make yourself useful and sort the bread out,” Iwaizumi grumbled.  
  
“Iwa-chan, the first rule of hospitality is to make the guest feel at home!”  
  
“You’re not a guest, you’re a nuisance, and unless you’ve got people waiting on you, you can feel ‘at home’ by getting the plates from that drawer there. Wash your hands first.”  
  
Oikawa’s face peered around from his shoulder, just at the edge of his vision.  
  
“Iwa-chan, are you my mother?”  
  
Iwaizumi slowly stopped grinding and looked up to face him.  
  
“I’m just joking, silly!” Oikawa laughed, a notch too high and a touch shaky. “Getting right on it.”  
  
Their conversation died down throughout Iwaizumi brewing the coffee and Oikawa setting the table, and when Iwaizumi brought the mugs over, Oikawa was already seated and busying himself on the phone again.  
  
“I ran out of sugar. Milk’s in the fridge.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Oikawa said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “I like my specialty coffees black. You can distinguish the flavours much better that way.”  
  
Iwaizumi threw a sharp look at Oikawa who was either oblivious to his stare or deliberately ignoring it. The guy was supposed to drown the coffee in milk and sugar and not have a clue about the concept of specialty coffees.  
  
He shook his head and put the mugs down, faltering for a second when he noticed a croissant on his plate (and he glanced over to see a pain au chocolat on Oikawa’s.) The bag of breads stood balanced upright to one side like the endgame of Jenga.  
  
“So?” Iwaizumi asked, sitting down. “How do you want to do this?”  
  
Oikawa clapped his hands. “Food first, Iwa-chan! I’m starving.”  
  
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and picked up the croissant with his fingertips, careful not to dent the bread and have it crumbling out of his hands – he took a bite.  
  
The taste immediately replaced the satisfaction of the earlier croissant, and he thought to himself _this_ was what he had been wanting to eat, the delicate flakes crumbling to uncover rich and tender buttery layers melting in his mouth. Iwaizumi loved that it was so deceptively simple yet demanded countless hours of labour to get it remotely right, and in that moment he missed spending the day in the tiny hovel of a kitchen surrounded by the mixed smells baked goods. He enjoyed and was proud of what he made for the tea room, no doubt about that, but cakes and confectionaries just weren’t the same.  
  
“So that’s how Iwa-chan smiles.”  
  
Iwaizumi glanced up, slowing his chewing to find Oikawa watching him with a smile – not the fake one he saw yesterday or during the weekend, but one that looked like he was... _happy_ , like the kind of smile that naturally appeared when watching children playing carefree, or spotting a sparrow fluffing up its feathers, or—  
  
—taking a bite of freshly baked bread from your favourite bakery. A smile that was pure joy and affectionate.  
  
He swallowed.  
  
Oikawa’s smile turned into a pout. “And now it’s gone.”  
  
Iwaizumi reached for the coffee. “That’s because I’m looking at your face.”  
  
“So _mean_ , Iwa-chan! I’ll have you know, this is the face that’s in demand right now.”  
  
“Says a lot about the current state of society.”  
  
Oikawa was frowning, but also had an amused smile. “Your view of me is _very_ misplaced, so let me start my introduction first and hopefully by the end you’ll come to understand why I’m such a wonderful person!”  
  
Iwaizumi turned to his bread; the only thing he would understand was how he had ended up with the oncoming headache.  
  
Oikawa talked – a lot. About his work as an influencer (which was a foreign occupation to Iwaizumi, but he took a stab that it was something to do with advertisement.) About his work as a blogger (which explained the mysterious popularity of the tea room and showed that there was actually a decent readership, though he couldn’t understand why.) About his interests of volleyball and sci-fi (which was surprising and almost made him blurt out a question) and fashion and interior design (which, let’s be honest, he didn’t need to be told.)  
  
Iwaizumi found himself absorbed in the constant stream of chatter. Oikawa’s tempo was nothing like his – it was quick and high-spirited, individually fine-tuned, and just when Iwaizumi felt flooded with information, Oikawa slowed down to allow him air and get his breath back before trickling back to its original pace. His talk lacked any of the glitz and suggestiveness in their previous meetings, instead replaced with a passion that was fresh and inventive and something Iwaizumi easily (and reluctantly) enjoyed.  
  
“—And so Mattsun told me he worked at a tea room that had real afternoon tea, and voila!”  
  
Iwaizumi realised he hadn’t heard most of the last topic and Oikawa paused, waiting expectantly for a response.  
  
“That’s… great.” He felt like an idiot for his reply.  
  
“Great for you, otherwise you would never have known I existed,” Oikawa agreed, and Iwaizumi no longer felt like the idiot, because Oikawa snatched that title from him for being so self-centred.  
  
Oikawa checked his watch. “Well, I better take my leave.”  
  
Iwaizumi checked his too – it was almost half twelve. He had forgotten to keep track and nearly let Oikawa overrun his time limit.  
  
That would have been embarrassing.  
  
“I’m sure I convinced you of my amazing personality, so next time you can tell me all about you!”  
  
Iwaizumi hollowly repeated, “Next time?”  
  
“I still don’t know anything about you,” Oikawa said, as if Iwaizumi should have been aware of the fact. “And this was about getting to know _each other_. It seems unfair that you know everything about me and I know nothing about you, hence – next time.”  
  
Iwaizumi was trying to get his head around that fact while Oikawa put his coat on. “I’ll see myself out. Oh!” Oikawa pulled one of the baguettes out of the bag. “This one’s mine. See you tomorrow, Iwa-chan!”  
  
And with that, Iwaizumi was left staring blankly at Oikawa striding to the door, giving a small wave as he walked out.  
  
Iwaizumi sat alone in the room that was now too silent.  
  
The baguette tipped sideways and other breads rolled out of the bag. Iwaizumi did a rough count – at least ten, including the baguette.  
  
“Asskawa, how am I supposed to eat all this by myself?”  
  
And as soon as the words were out of his mouth, it dawned on him that Oikawa might have deliberately planned the whole thing out.  
  
_...Well, damn._  
  
And never, ever would Iwaizumi tell _anyone_ , but in that moment he thought – Oikawa was _good_.

 

*

 

Back at home on his couch after a long day of travelling, getting into Iwaizumi’s good books, one work meeting, one casual meeting, and a trip to the supermarket, Oikawa had a full mug of tea in one hand while glaring at his phone in the other, a position he had been keeping for the past half an hour.  
  
So far, his tally was forty-seven unread messages and twelve missed calls.  
  
He sent another three messages with saddened emoji to round it off to a nice fifty, then pulled up another number to call.  
  
As soon as he heard the ringtone cut off, Oikawa burst out with, “Kuro-chan! Bokkun’s ignoring me!”  
  
“... _Yeah, he’s ignoring me too._ ”  
  
“Oh. That’s all right then!” Oikawa didn’t have to take it personally if Kuroo was also being ignored.  
  
Realisation then hit him. “You know what that means? He’s finally with Akaashi-chan!”  
  
There was a pause. “ _Sometimes I question why you and Bokuto get along, and then you go and say something overly optimistic and I remember._ ”  
  
Oikawa frowned. “But the other option would be Bokkun being upset and he has no reason to be upset.”  
  
Kuroo’s laugh was bitter. “ _Really? Not even if, say, Akaashi rejected him?”_  
  
Kuroo was being overly pessimistic, because what he said made no sense. Oikawa had seen the signs first hand – faint blushing, question dodging, bags under the eyes from a sleepless night (or maybe two), glances at their table every five minutes which Oikawa knew had nothing to do with checking whether the teapots needed refilling.  
  
“Akaashi-chan likes Bokkun,” Oikawa insisted.  
  
Oikawa imagined Kuroo shrugging as he said, “ _Maybe not enough_.”  
  
“I saw the evidence with my own two eyes, Kuro-chan, the signs were so stereotypical ‘in love with your crush’ Akaashi-chan might as well be the main character of a shojo manga.”  
  
Kuroo sighed. “ _Well, something’s got him down. I’ll go and see him tomorrow. Might even pay Akaashi a little visit on the way._ ”  
  
Oikawa took a thoughtful sip of his (sadly lukewarm) tea; if there was a tiny speck of truth to Kuroo’s words and Akaashi had turned Bokuto down (which had better not be the case after the effort he went into running all the way from Shinjuku to the tea room and back again in the space of two hours just because Bokuto wouldn’t stop messaging him keymashings), then it was going to complicate his interactions with Iwaizumi. And he couldn’t have that.  
  
What would be the best way to solve the problem?  
  
“ _Oikawa?_ ” Kuroo interrupted his thoughts. “ _Something on your mind?_ ”  
  
“Hmm? Just trying to tackle the problem from a different angle,” Oikawa replied, adding a bit of cheer to his voice to offset the depressing turn in topic.  
  
“ _Does that angle involve the view of one ‘deliciously-handsome’ baker?_ ”  
  
“I know it was you who betrayed my trust by revealing my weakness to him. Luckily for you, Oikawa-san is very forgiving.”  
  
“ _And is ‘Iwaizumi-san’ very forgiving?”_  
  
Oikawa leaned back. “He will be by the time I have my way with him.”  
  
Oikawa couldn’t help grin at the possibility, but with each second that drew out Kuroo’s silence, the angle changed until it curved downwards and left him feeling irritated.  
  
“Kuro-chan, you of all people can’t be turned off by what I just said.”  
  
There was another pause – hesitant, which wasn’t becoming of Kuroo at all. “ _Word of advice, Oikawa? You might want to ease into this one.”_ Considering the double entendre, Kuroo’s tone was surprisingly sombre.  
  
“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Oikawa half-demanded, sitting up straight.  
  
“ _If you have to ask, you probably shouldn’t be going after him in the first place. Not that I want to inflate your ego, but your people-reading skills are usually bang on – I’m a little surprised it’s failing you.”_  
  
Oikawa huffed and he took another sip to calm down. “My people-reading skills are in working order, Kuro-chan. I could see he was enraptured by my charm during our lunch today.”  
  
“ _Lunch? With Iwaizumi? How the hell did you manage that?!_ ”  
  
Oikawa tutted and shook his head sadly. “Kuro-chan, you underestimate me.”  
  
“ _Fine._ ” His tone was begrudging. “ _I’ll give you impressive, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”_  
  
“Yes, Kuro-chan is extremely kind for giving me a warning,” Oikawa cooed. “Anyway, keep me updated on Bokkun.”  
  
“ _Will do._ ”  
  
Kuroo cut off before Oikawa could say good night and he was left staring down at his phone.  
  
“Well, that’s rude!”  
  
Oikawa put both the mug and phone down on the coffee table and reached for his laptop to bring up a blank box for his new blog post, hands hovering over the keys. Kuroo’s words pushed all other words out of his mind.  
  
Kuroo didn’t understand. Whether it was a client who was in-demand or a product that was weeks from being released, Oikawa always got what he wanted. It was no different this time – he wanted Iwaizumi, and he was determined to get his hands on him.


	3. Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, big thank you to shabzulu who listened to my wailings and provided the breeze that helped steer this chapter in the right direction♡

Iwaizumi’s lunch break was as long as the time it took for him to make a sandwich, and eat the sandwich. It wasn’t that he was so strapped for time that he couldn’t take longer, it was a habit he had unintentionally formed over the years. He also took it before Akaashi arrived because he didn’t want to see his judgemental stare, (like _he_ was in a position to judge with his half an hour dinner breaks.) He cut a couple of slices from one of the loaves used for the finger sandwiches, kept additional vegetables in the fridge so he could rotate the fillings throughout the week, and either sat outside on the crate or inside on the stool depending on the weather.

Today he sat on the stool as he took a bite of his sandwich (ham, cheese, lettuce, tomato), not because it was raining, but because of the person seated opposite him tucking into the sandwich he was forced into making because it was either that or being stared at enviously while he ate.

“This is so good, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi was suspicious of the happiness radiating from Oikawa, who was chewing on the sandwich Iwaizumi painstakingly made from scratch, which was the emotion he firmly settled on because he didn’t want to feel something positive towards the guy. Like satisfied. Or proud. Or even amused.

“It’s a sandwich,” Iwaizumi managed to say flatly with his mouth still full. “And I’m guessing the bread’s probably not sweet enough for you.”

“I didn’t even have to ask a question this time to find out you hold grudges,” Oikawa remarked. “You really should learn to let things go, it’s not very good for your stress levels.”

“I would if someone didn’t keep coming to see me day after day as a constant reminder.”

Oikawa had arrived maybe twenty minutes beforehand because his comment yesterday about returning wasn’t said out of politeness as Iwaizumi hoped was the case. While he was making his lunch they had (very briefly) covered his work history, and here they were now, Iwaizumi dreading Oikawa’s next line of questions.

“Tell me about you and Akaashi-chan! How did you two meet?”

Iwaizumi was a little thrown, but the question seemed harmless enough.

“In my second year of university when he joined the volleyball club I was in. We talked, had a few things in common, liked each other’s company, kept in touch.”

Oikawa paused biting into his sandwich to exclaim, “You didn’t think to mention volleyball yesterday?! Were you any good? What position?”

“Yeah, well, yesterday was ‘all about you’, wasn’t it? And wing spiker. We joined one of the minor clubs – didn’t do any big tournaments or anything. It was mainly for fun.”

Oikawa hummed in interest. “That would make it ten years since you first met!”

Iwaizumi slowed his chewing in thought, then swallowed. “Never really thought about that. I guess you’re right.”

A decade – Iwaizumi felt like anyone else would find it reason enough to celebrate with cake, but knowing both his and Akaashi’s personalities, they probably wouldn’t.

“And now Akaashi-chan’s off dating Bokkun.”

Iwaizumi huffed, thinking of their conversation last week and Akaashi’s wishy-washy answer. “When he actually decides to do something about it, then maybe, yeah.”

The bitterness was too strong in those words and he glanced up to see if Oikawa noticed – Oikawa whose eyes were on him, taking in every little detail of his word choice and body language.

“What’s your impression of Bokkun?” Oikawa breezed on to the next question. Iwaizumi sighed inwardly in relief.

“I’m beginning to think you’re here to fish for gossip on those two,” Iwaizumi pointed out.

“My number one reason is always Iwa-chan! But also you can’t blame me for being curious as to what you think about it all. I want to know about Akaashi-chan too, Bokkun’s a good friend. I only want the best for him.”

Something about that answer made Iwaizumi smile (into his sandwich so Oikawa wouldn’t pick it up.)

“The guy seems decent enough from what I know, which is basically the two times I glanced at his face and what everyone else has told me. I wouldn’t take him for Akaashi’s type, but whatever makes him happy. Anyone that gets him to move on from—”

Iwaizumi caught himself too late, quickly looking up to find a grin forming on Oikawa’s face.

“From?”

He swore at himself for being careless. “This is supposed to be about me right? Let’s keep it that way.”

Iwaizumi took a bite of his sandwich while eyeing Oikawa – he could see the cogs turning as he thought of his next question. “What’s your impression of his last relationship then?”

Iwaizumi had only met Ushijima a handful of times and nothing longer than an hour, the guy always getting up and disappearing halfway through because of practice or a meeting or whatever, leaving Akaashi and Iwaizumi to finish their coffee or food by themselves. He let it go the first couple of times, it grated more and more every time after that, and Iwaizumi was tempted to demand what was so goddamn important that he couldn’t make time for Akaashi. He knew Akaashi wouldn’t appreciate that, so instead he demanded from him why it was that he found it okay to be around a guy who was hardly there at all. Akaashi didn’t seem bothered – he just said it gave him time to concentrate on his studies and Iwaizumi left it at that, knowing he wouldn’t get anything more out of him.

At the time, he thought Ushijima was similar to Akaashi, only less sharp and more clueless, but then he met up with Akaashi (from what he gathered a year after the break-up because Akaashi was finishing off his retake and was well into his work at the tea room), noting his paler and thin features, and he was angry at Akaashi for not talking to him, but more at the man who threw him away. Ushijima was nothing like Akaashi, because if he was even remotely similar, he wouldn’t have let him go.

A while after that, Iwaizumi started working at the tea room. The longer he worked, the more he realised Akaashi was holing himself up inside the walls, either of Aobazuku or his home. Iwaizumi refused to ask him about it. He knew if he was in Akaashi’s shoes, he would hate being poked about his relationship and he would want to talk only when he was ready. But he didn’t think he would be waiting years down the line, and still be waiting until this very day.

Iwaizumi clenched his jaw, glaring at the floor between them.

“He deserved better.”

The air around them felt heavy.

“Don’t take it out on the poor sandwich, it wasn’t the one responsible for breaking Akaashi-chan’s heart.”

Oikawa’s tone was light – but gentle.

Iwaizumi looked down to find he had flattened half his remaining sandwich, tomato dripping onto his plate.

“You needn’t worry about Bokkun either, he’s harmless,” Oikawa said, instilling his usual good humour into his reply. “And he’s completely smitten with Akaashi-chan, he won’t hurt him.”

Iwaizumi didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he wanted Oikawa to be right.

“Seeing as we’re on the topic of types – what’s yours?”

Iwaizumi frowned at the new topic and shrugged. “I wouldn’t really know.”

It wasn’t that he hadn’t been in relationships, he just couldn’t remember much about them, or the people he dated. It was more to do with him not having a reason to decline so agreed (he had never initiated) and then the relationship fizzled out into being single again. No drama, no excitement – he wasn’t even sure he could say he knew what it was like to be in love.

“Why not?! You’re attractive – granted not as attractive as me – you must have had plenty of people wanting to take you out!”

“I spend all day in the kitchen and then I go home. Who’s going to notice I’m around except for the people working?”

“You say such sad things.” The way Oikawa spoke sounded like he actually meant it. “Good thing I noticed and decided to keep you company!”

“I’m beginning to regret letting you do that.”

“That means you haven’t regretted it so far!”

Iwaizumi wanted to argue back. But what Oikawa said was true, and he really wished it wasn’t.

“You’ve got a quarter of a sandwich left before I get back to work,” Iwaizumi reminded, waving it in front of his face.

“In that case, tell me more about Iwa-chan’s love life!”

The frown returned on his face. “It’s a bit personal, don’t you think?”

Oikawa cocked his head. “Is it? In my opinion it’s no more personal than asking about your relationship with Akaashi-chan. I would share mine but we agreed the focus today is on you.” He popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth.

Iwaizumi suddenly felt tired, just realising they were halfway through a game he didn’t know the rules of. “What are you digging around for?”

“I’m just curious—”

“Again with the bullshitting,” Iwaizumi warned. “I don’t like it. Either say what you mean or don’t bother being here.”

“If you insist.” Oikawa put his empty plate down, looked him straight in the eyes and said, “I find you immensely attractive and would really like to take you home with me.”

Iwaizumi’s sandwich slipped from between his fingers, falling with a splat on the floor.

“You—”

Iwaizumi tried to think how everything about the past few days tied in with this confession.

Where was the line between his apology and interest? Did Oikawa actually mean the apology or was he trying to get his forgiveness to take things further? Or was it more than that? Was it purely physical or did Oikawa like him? Oikawa couldn’t like him, even he knew how brusque and bad tempered he was – who the hell would like that about a person?

All Iwaizumi could managed was a dumb, “What?”

Oikawa laughed – too loud, too long, too much, and the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Iwa-chan, I’m only joking! You know I throw around salacious comments! There’s no meaning behind what I just said! Was it so believable you took it seriously? We both know I’m just here for the milk bread!”

The words were chopped and sharp, none of the smoothness of the past few days.

“Oh, you know what, I better get going, you have work to do, I have work to get to – I’m sorry if I made you expect anything! Thanks for the lunch!”

Oikawa almost ran out of the kitchen, leaving Iwaizumi seated alone in the kitchen, trying to make sense of it all, unable to make _any_ sense of it all.

 

*

 

Oikawa was good at flirting.

Not good, great – _amazing_. It didn’t fail him except, maybe, five – no, _three_ percent of the time, with those unfortunate people who just couldn’t appreciate his appeal. It worked on Kuroo when they first met (and Kuroo was able to keep up which made everything all the more interesting, for a while, but the bouncing innuendos back and forth was hard work hence why they never took it further than first base.) It worked on Bokuto when they first met (the first couple of sentences that had Bokuto laughing and blushing, until he couldn’t keep up and Oikawa firmly placed Bokuto in the friendship category, even though there was a brief period of time initially where he fantasised about Bokuto’s physique.) It worked on everyone else he met for work, for pleasure – basically for everything.

So it didn’t make sense why he was curled up on the sofa, burying his face into a cushion, regretting his life choices.

No, it did make sense. Iwaizumi was to blame, it was the way he asked, demanding a no-nonsense, direct answer, that pushed Oikawa into blurting out the first thing that came into his head without any of his usual filters and… when he repeated what he said in his head, he had to backtrack and everything that came out afterwards was a jumbled mess of words and excuses and he was back in elementary school trying to get the interest of a girl in his class by trying to show off his _Chimpui_ manga collection.

“I expected worse to be honest,” Kuroo said from the other end of the sofa.

“Kuro-chan, didn’t you hear what I said?” Oikawa cried, his voice muffled by the cushion. “I think I’m broken – no, Iwa-chan has broken me! I’m never going to be able to flirt with anyone again!”

“Look at it this way – he didn’t get angry and he didn’t say no.”

Oikawa dropped the cushion onto his lap and straightened himself up. “You’re right. I’m still in with a chance.”

“That’s not what I said.”

There was buzzing coming from Kuroo and he pulled out his phone, swiping the screen.

“Nice of you to finally call us, Bokuto. You’re on speaker by the way, I’m with Oikawa.”

“I’m offended I’m not the first person you call considering the number of messages I left you,” Oikawa said, scooting over to Kuroo who held out his hands in a ‘ _Do you mind? You’re invading my personal space,_ ’ and Oikawa shrugging with a ‘ _No, I don’t mind at all._ ’

“ _Oh! Hey, hey! Yeah, um… sorry, Oikawa. It’s because Kuroo messaged earlier to let me know Akaashi was coming over that I rang him first to say thanks! And... I’m also really sorry for ignoring you both the last couple of days._ ”

“No sorries needed, you know that,” Kuroo brushed the apology away. “How’d it go with Akaashi?”

“ _I... don’t know. Things were okay, then it got complicated, and it all ended with me telling him when and where to meet on Saturday so… I guess we’ll find out if he decides to show up._ ”

“You asked Akaashi-chan out?!” Oikawa pushed Kuroo further into the corner of the sofa.

Bokuto laughed nervously. “ _Kind of? It sounded smooth when I was saying it, but I keep playing it back in my head and it probably wasn’t the best way of going about things—_ ”

“Hold on there, Bokuto – you sounded smooth?” Kuroo shot Oikawa a side glance. “And Oikawa wasn’t? My world around me is crumbling before my very eyes.”

“ _What do you mean?_ ”

“Kuro-chan, don’t—”

“Oikawa told Iwaizumi he has the hots of him and threw out an invitation to his bed.”

There was silence from the other end of the phone, until eventually Bokuto asked, “ _Did he explode?_ ”

“Funnily, no.” Kuroo turned to Oikawa. “How did he react again, Oikawa?”

Oikawa glared at him and contemplated not giving him the satisfaction of providing an answer, but then decided that wouldn’t be fair on Bokuto. “He didn’t say anything. But. There was a nice blush colouring his face.”

It was a shocking (and adorable) sight to say the least, and he wondered how far down it reached.

“ _That means he likes you! People blush when they like someone, right? Why don’t you ask him out?_ ”

Oikawa gave up on dating when past partners complained about him focusing too much on his work and his over-friendly nature. He couldn’t seem to balance his public and private life, and at that time he was starting out with his business and it was important for him to prioritise building a reputation and expanding his contacts. He found it was easier to slot in a one night stand and now he couldn’t even remember the merits of the full deal.

“You know I don’t do dates, Bokkun.”

 _“I don’t get why,_ ” Bokuto said, sounding disappointed. “ _I mean, I like the physical side of things too, but I want to spend time outside of that and really get to know the person, you know? Don’t you want to do the same with Iwaizumi?_ ”

“Yeah, Oikawa.” Kuroo turned to Oikawa with a grin he didn’t like. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but isn’t what Bokuto just described the same as what you’ve been doing during your lunches with Iwaizumi? Does it still count as a date if both parties aren’t aware of it?”

“ _You’ve had lunch together?!_ ”

“Twice,” Kuroo added.

Oikawa knew that once Kuroo dug his nails firmly into his prey, he liked to tighten his hold one small grip at a time until the other person was squirming.

Oikawa was not going to squirm. He was dignified and even if he was aware of falling deeper into Kuroo’s trap, he was not going down without a fight.

“Yesterday was to apologise. Today was a continuation of yesterday’s conversation. They are all means to an end which is fundamentally getting him into my bed. I think I would know if they were dates seeing as I actively go out to avoid them.”

“Really? Let’s see.” Kuroo put his phone on his lap and held out his hands, counting off on his fingers. “Both of you agree to eating together, no one else. You buy him his favourite bread. He invites you into his house. You ask about relationships and types. He actually answers you seriously. You buy him lunch. He makes you lunch. You willingly shut up and listen to him talk. He willingly listens to you ramble on. Oikawa, literally lend me a hand here, I’m running out of fingers.”

“ _That... sounds a lot like a date, Oikawa._ ”

It sounded like a date to Oikawa too, and he wanted to question at which point he had let his emotions run loose and get the better of his head.

Kuroo’s grin widened and Oikawa felt it, the chill of an oncoming point that was going to strike him dead in the centre.

“How about this – imagine Iwaizumi going out on one of your ‘lunches’ with someone who has the same intention of getting him into their bed, with the additional factor of wanting more.”

As soon as Kuroo said it, Oikawa’s brain stupidly did. Someone like Kuroo who would make his intentions clear, but also be in it for the long run. He imagined Kuroo successfully winning Iwaizumi over with his sweet talk, making him blush (which Oikawa was able to visualise all too well now that he had seen it himself), making him accept (grudgingly, because Iwaizumi was stubborn and never agreeable outright), and making him scream his name for more than one night (and god, Oikawa wanted to hear his voice rough and cracked and scraping his nerves raw.)

Oikawa hated it. Because it wasn’t him who was making Iwaizumi blush that way, it wasn’t him Iwaizumi agreed to be with, it wasn’t his name Iwaizumi was screaming.

And he wanted him for more than one night. More than several nights. Oikawa wanted Iwaizumi for all the nights, and all the days, every single one. It wasn’t even about the sex any more, it was the way Iwaizumi lit up while he listened, or flashed a rare smile that was quickly concealed, or exposed his vulnerability because he expected others to do the same – and it made him insatiable for Iwaizumi.

“I like him,” Oikawa said in a small voice.

Kuroo gave a sagely nod. “You like him.”

“ _You like him!_ ” Bokuto cheered down the phone. “ _That’s great! Now I don’t have to worry about you doing that thing where you stop contacting people after your one night stands!_ ”

“And with that realisation, I’m heading home. Good to hear from you, Bo. Let us know how everything goes.”

“ _Thanks, Kuroo! And you too, Oikawa! Night!_ ”

“I think my work here is done,” Kuroo said, pushing himself up and grabbing his jacket. “I’ll leave you alone to deal with your existential crisis. Oh, and Oikawa?”

Oikawa looked up.

Kuroo’s grin faded. “Whatever you decide on doing, I’d wait at least a couple of days before you go and see him. That fight sounded serious – he’s not gonna be in the mood to talk.”

He put on his jacket as he headed for the door, heaving a sigh. “Being kind really takes it out of you. Good luck, Oikawa.”

On that note Kuroo shut the door.

And for once, Oikawa was rendered speechless.


	4. Thursday

Iwaizumi stepped out from the warmth of the kitchen surrounded by baked goods into the cold and colourless day. The last time he went out for lunch was during spring last year when Hanamaki rounded everyone up every day throughout the duration of the cherry blossom season so they could picnic in the park (he also clearly remembered having to provide everyone’s lunches every single one of those days.) He briefly wondered whether they would do the same this year before his thoughts were invaded again with last night’s argument.  
  
He couldn’t recall a time they had a fight. And he had never seen Akaashi look as close to a meltdown as he did yesterday, eyes and words as cold as the metal of the handle Iwaizumi now tugged to close and lock the door.  
  
It was bound to happen at some point, Iwaizumi thought as he began to walk down the path. Everything was leading up to it; Akaashi’s unsteady moods, the talk they had last week - and hearing Akaashi talk to Kuroo like he was going to push away the one good thing that was happening in his life was the last straw for him.  
  
Iwaizumi stepped out into the road and—  
  
“Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi winced at Oikawa shrieking in his ear as they ran into each other. “What are you doing here?!”  
  
“I work here,” Iwaizumi said slowly.  
  
“I meant, what are you doing outside,” Oikawa sniffed, recovering his usual haughty attitude.  
  
“I’m going out for lunch. What are _you_ doing here?”  
  
“I was just... passing by.”  
  
Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes, shook his head and muttered “typical” under his breath as he walked past.  
  
“Hey – hey, wait!”  
  
A hand was on his shoulder, turning him back round.  
  
“Kuro-chan told me what happened between you and Akaashi-chan. I just wanted to check up on you.” Oikawa put on a smile that was a sorry attempt to lighten up the mood. “But you seem fine, so mission accomplished! I’ll let you get on with your lunch.”  
  
As Oikawa marched past, Iwaizumi asked, “That’s it?”  
  
The question stopped Oikawa in his tracks. Iwaizumi watched his back, trying to picture what expression Oikawa had on his face.  
  
He drew a blank.  
  
“I didn’t come here to talk about yesterday. Well, yesterday morning specifically. I came here to talk about – no, _listen_ to you talk about yesterday evening. If you need me to.”  
  
Iwaizumi caught the natural concern on Oikawa’s face as he turned before it was replaced by an artificial mask that failed to express attempted humour, instead twisting into a pained grimace.  
  
“I brought this on myself, but I really did come to check you were okay. I thought if things were rocky between you and Akaashi-chan you wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. Then again, I suppose there’s Makki and Mattsun, Makki’s rival, cute waitress-chan—” The grimace thinned into a feeble grin. “Thinking about it, my presence isn’t really needed, is it?”  
  
Iwaizumi hated Oikawa’s masks.  
  
But right now he hated himself for being the one to force him into wearing it.  
  
“There’s a tonkatsu place around the corner,” Iwaizumi blurted, his voice too loud. “If it’s not too lowly for your taste.”  
  
Iwaizumi waited for one of Oikawa’s sly comments – something about seducing him or indirectly asking him on a date. Oikawa hesitated, like a child doubting that reaching out to pet the dog wouldn’t lead to him getting bitten.  
  
“Iwa-chan, tonkatsu originated in a restaurant in Ginza. It’s practically first-class.”  
  
He was baffled at how Oikawa knew that, then shook it off, walking past and brushing his shoulder along the way.  
  
“Come on then.”  
  
The shop was literally around the corner, a battered shack that was on the verge of collapsing, and inside were three tables and a counter, two faded photographs of the two set meals that only differed in the type of pork cuts, and beaten wooden frames and peeling wallpaper that did nothing to make it appear first-class. It was first-class in Iwaizumi’s eyes, the old couple who ran the shop setting a comfortable atmosphere and not skimping on food quality or portion size.  
  
They made their orders, sat opposite each other in the corner furthest from the door, poured themselves water from the jug and fell into a silence that managed to stretch for nearly five minutes, with Oikawa peeking inside the pots of sauce and salad dressing, and then craning his neck to determinedly study the interior, while Iwaizumi repeatedly reached for the glass either to rotate it or take a small sip.  
  
“I’ve lived in this area for four years now and I never knew about this place,” Oikawa finally said.  
  
“You didn’t know about the tea room either,” Iwaizumi pointed out.  
  
“I didn’t know about you.” Oikawa immediately held up his hands. “Sorry. Force of habit.”  
  
Iwaizumi ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not – I’m not mad about what you said. It’s probably the most honest thing you said to me out of everything in the whole week. I am a little pissed you turned it into a joke when it obviously wasn’t.”  
  
Oikawa blinked, a soft “oh” escaping his lips.  
  
“But I don’t really want to talk about that right now,” Iwaizumi continued quickly, Oikawa nodding furiously in agreement. “And I don’t particularly want to talk about last night—”  
  
Iwaizumi inhaled deeply, exhaled heavily.  
  
“But I do need to talk about it.”  
  
The old lady came over to set their trays of food onto the table, and Iwaizumi paused the conversation to thank her, his low, steady ‘thank you’ overlapping with one that was light and sweet. She smiled at them then returned to the counter, disappearing into the kitchen.  
  
Iwaizumi managed to get as far as snapping the chopsticks apart before he burst out.  
  
“Akaashi didn’t close himself off in the past. Sure, he was reserved and on guard, but not… withdrawn like he is now. After we first met and got to know each other better, he started coming to me for advice. It was easy stuff at first – directions around campus, pointers on volleyball. He soon started asking for advice on mingling with classmates, and eventually to relationships more private. I don’t know what made him choose me as the sempai or friend he could turn to. But he did. So I did what I could to help.  
  
“Because of all that I never got why he didn’t tell me they broke up. I was busy and out of town at the time, but I wasn’t far, I would’ve been there for him if he asked. I had no clue and kept messaging to check he was all right and he just… dodged the questions and pretended everything was fine.”  
  
Iwaizumi stabbed at the rice, scooping out a mouthful without trying to eat it. “Did I... do something to become unapproachable?”  
  
He sounded pathetic to his own ears, asking someone else – _Oikawa_ – to validate his own worth. How had he resorted to relying on Oikawa of all people? It wasn’t as though Oikawa knew him or Akaashi well, yet Iwaizumi was talking like Oikawa would be able to give him advice. Even more disturbing was how easily his words flowed out.  
  
“I will confess I compared you to a sea urchin a couple of times,” Oikawa said, unflinching even when Iwaizumi shot him a glare. “In answer to your question, I imagine Akaashi-chan was scared of losing you as a friend.”  
  
“Losing _me_? How the hell does his breakup have anything to do with me?”  
  
Oikawa waved his chopsticks as he finished chewing and swallowed. “It’s simple – you said he withdrew, which means he wasn’t the one to end the relationship, and I can see him being the overthinking type so he probably blamed himself for its failure – maybe a character flaw or personality trait. If he believed that to be the cause of his relationship ending, he didn’t want to tell you because by doing so you might realise he wasn’t the person you thought he was, which is why I said he was scared of losing you as a friend. He didn’t want to be the cause of your friendship ending as well.”  
  
“Why would he think – that’s insane! Okay, say everything was true, he should’ve known I wouldn’t abandon him like that.”  
  
Oikawa dipped his chopsticks into the soup and watched the swirl of liquid as he spoke.  
  
“Iwa-chan, no matter how well you think you know someone – however long you’ve known them, whatever you’ve both been through – when you expose your innermost self by unveiling a truth you’re absolutely certain they’ll accept, or not accept, it is almost guaranteed they’ll betray your expectations, for better or for worse. And in the case of Akaashi-chan, you were too valuable a friend to risk that.”  
  
Iwaizumi clenched his jaw, his chest aching at the thought of Akaashi suffering from his thoughts and reasonings alone.  
  
“But we met up again,” he managed. “We talked more, we started working together, I was right there for him. Why didn’t he tell me? Why doesn’t he still?”  
  
Oikawa sighed, shaking his head. “Because you might react badly. Because you might judge him and his decisions. Because it might complicate things at work. I don’t know, I’m not Akaashi-chan. It could be any, it could be all, it could be none.”  
  
Their talk was interrupted by the heavy wooden door scraping open and a group of businessmen walking in, filling the room with their complaints and guffaws. Iwaizumi noticed his food was almost untouched compared to Oikawa’s which had half gone and he began picking at his food in silence.  
  
He managed two slices of pork before resuming.  
  
“He didn’t tell me about your friend either. I had to find out from the others and then ask him about it. I mean, I had a feeling there was something going on, he was acting... skittish. I’ve never seen him like that with a person, not even with the two guys he dated at university.”  
  
Oikawa broke out into a smile. “That means he must really like Bokkun!”  
  
Iwaizumi didn’t share the same enthusiasm. “Yeah, but he won’t make a move. He used to be the kind of guy who’d go for what he wanted. Now he’s too afraid to step forward.”  
  
Oikawa hummed around his chopsticks. “When was the last time you were in a relationship?”  
  
Iwaizumi bit back the demand to know why it was his business and replied, “Seven, maybe eight years.”  
  
“And the breakup was mutual? Amicable?”  
  
“Well, neither of us were happy about it. We talked it out and agreed we weren’t for each other.”  
  
Oikawa nodded as though what he said confirmed a hunch. “You find it difficult to understand because you’re voluntarily single and open to relationships. It’s not the same for Akaashi-chan – he’s forcefully denying himself a relationship so when one does come along, no matter how perfect it might seem, he makes excuses as to why he can’t be in one. I can relate to that.”  
  
A question of whether that also related to the comment yesterday was ready on his tongue. Iwaizumi shovelled rice into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing it down; he could only deal with one problem at a time.  
  
“If it’s any consolation, Bokkun seemed fairly confident – oh, you probably haven’t heard. Bokkun asked Akaashi-chan out on a date on Saturday. The rest is up to Akaashi-chan and whether he decides to turn up. He didn’t say no outright, so it’s not a lost cause.”  
  
Oikawa continued to eat; Iwaizumi lost more of his appetite the longer he stared down at his food.  
  
He didn't know how much of what Oikawa said was true – for all he knew his guesses could be completely off the mark.  
  
But if they weren't. What kind of a friend was he? Who was he to accuse Akaashi of not telling him anything if Akaashi wasn’t ready?  
  
“I shouldn’t have lost my cool—”  
  
“Iwa-chan.”  
  
Iwaizumi looked up to find Oikawa putting down his chopsticks on his empty plate and resting his head in his hands, taking a moment to study him.  
  
“You respected him by staying on the edge of his boundaries when most people would have pushed on or pulled back. Yes, you got angry, but it's nothing to feel ashamed of, you have your own limits too. Akaashi-chan will come to realise that.”  
  
The door broke off their conversation once more, this time followed by two women chatting brightly as they came over and pulled out chairs from the table behind them.  
  
“If you don’t finish your food people are going to be queueing outside throughout their lunch break, and that’s just inconsiderate,” Oikawa scolded, his tone upbeat. “Do you mind if I reply to some emails while you eat?”  
  
Iwaizumi kept his eyes on the tray and concentrated on getting his food down. He wanted to believe Oikawa, that he had done his best. All he could do now was to leave Akaashi alone for a few days to let them cool down.  
  
He seemed to be running on autopilot because the next moment they were standing outside again, well-fed, food paid and – Iwaizumi checked the time – still over an hour before opening.  
  
“I have to get going. Last chance for enquiries to the Grand King Oikawa-sama for his profound advice before he closes for the day.”  
  
If there was one thing Iwaizumi could depend on, it was Oikawa being egoistic. “I’m gonna take a walk to clear my head,” Iwaizumi passed up the offer.  
  
Oikawa nodded in understanding, not showing offence. “Hopefully my earlier words of wisdom will provide you with some guidance.”  
  
“Maybe they will,” he said with a laugh, surprising himself. Oikawa widened his eyes, which then melted into a smile.  
  
Iwaizumi’s heart skipped a beat, and started up a new pace, hard and fast.  
  
He told himself Oikawa was bound to ruin the moment by remarking on his genius.  
  
Nothing came.  
  
And then Oikawa was turning, without a single comment or a word of goodbye, leaving Iwaizumi with his feet rooted to the ground. He wanted to yell out to him – that he was full of himself, if he would return tomorrow, (some resemblance of a thanks) but his throat was too tight and Oikawa was striding away too fast with confident steps this time, not retreating. Whatever had happened between them was left unfinished, but with Oikawa in the distance and him needing to return to work, Iwaizumi decided he would do as he said and walked in the opposite direction to sift through the thoughts muddling his head.

 

*

 

Oikawa’s evening was currently being spent glued to the screen as he finished emailing one of his clients to confirm he would be visiting over the weekend. He hit send, scrolled through their website once more and closed the page, confident his plan was falling into place.  
  
What he was planning wasn't about gaining Iwaizumi's favour. It was because he didn't want to see Iwaizumi hurting, and knowing Akaashi and Iwaizumi (or what little he knew of them), they would probably leave the issue untouched, letting it fade to remain unresolved.  
  
Oikawa opened up a conversation, scrolling up and up and up until he reached the beginning; he guessed from what he saw that a third of the messages were smileys, a third were variations of Akaashi’s name, and the rest the actual point he wanted to get across. He must have sent more than double of what he sent to Bokuto.  
  
And with that thought, he pulled up Bokuto’s contact details and gave him a call.  
  
Bokuto picked up after the first two rings. “ _Hey, Oikawa!_ ”  
  
Oikawa skipped the pleasantries, his mind too focused on organising his thoughts and schedules. “Bokkun, what are you doing with Akaashi-chan on Saturday?”  
  
“ _Saturday?_ ” There was now concern in his voice. “ _Well, if he comes... I was gonna take him to see a volleyball match._ ”  
  
Oikawa raised his eyebrows in awe; it was a strong choice for a first date and Bokuto deserved credit. “You’re really going to make an impression on Akaashi-chan.”  
  
“ _You think so? He said he was into it… I had to pay double to get my hands on the tickets, but hopefully he'll like it._ ”  
  
“He'll definitely like it,” Oikawa reassured, then switched on his business mode as he resumed his questioning. “What time and where are you meeting him? What stadium? When does the match start?”  
  
Bokuto didn’t reply straight away. “ _That’s a lot of questions you’re asking, Oikawa._ ”  
  
Oikawa forced himself to slow down; he forgot Bokuto was easily intimidated by his gung ho attitude. “Bokkun, there might be something I can do to make your date successful,” he said, sweetening his tone. “I want to see if you can fit it in!”  
  
“ _Oh! Well, in that case, I’m meeting him at twelve at his station, the stadium is the one near Kawasaki, and the match starts at one._ ”  
  
One hour wasn’t long enough. Oikawa gave it a shot anyway – he didn’t call himself an influencer for nothing.  
  
“There’s a tea shop that recently opened on the other side of the station from the tea room – it’s a little over ten minutes away and closer to the next stop, but easy enough to get to. They have a thing, dessert teas, with lots of fun flavours like strawberry cream and chocolate orange – you’d really like it, and I think Akaashi-chan would really like it too, if you took him there before you headed to your match.”  
  
“ _Tea shop? Wouldn’t that be like supporting the rival team?_ ”  
  
“Of course not! It would be like research. It’s his field, he can see what other shops are around and maybe get some ideas himself.”  
  
“ _But we’ve only got an hour before the match starts, it takes at least half an hour by train, and then there’s a fifteen minute walk to the stadium. We might miss the beginning._ ”  
  
Bokuto was never this thorough with anything, which showed just how much thought he had put into the whole date. Oikawa looked to the ceiling and asked whatever deity who was in charge of watching over him (because it would be absurd to think he didn’t have one) to lend him a hand in trying to get Bokuto to come to his senses.  
  
“Bokkun, I know volleyball is really important to you, but tea is really important to Akaashi-chan, and I’m sharing this information with you so you can demonstrate to Akaashi-chan that you think his work is also important to you.”  
  
“ _That’s a really good idea! And really nice of you, Oikawa, thanks! But don’t you think Akaashi would want to get there on time? What if he thinks I’m being too loose? Or I’m not punctual enough? He runs a tea room so he must want things done on the dot._ ”  
  
Oikawa wanted to hit his head against something (he never would though, because that could potentially harm his beautiful face and it would make his clients, his followers, _Iwa-chan_ , very sad indeed.)  
  
“If that’s the case, you’re going to have difficulties in the long run because you’re not one hundred percent punctual yourself. Actually, you might want to get to the station a little earlier than twelve.”  
  
“ _Oh my god, it would be a disaster if Akaashi arrived and I wasn’t there. He might think I stood him up! What if I lose the chance to be with him?!_ ”  
  
“You won’t if you’re there extra early – say, eleven thirty to be on the safe side. If Akaashi-chan arrives early as well, you’ll have enough time to visit the shop and make it in time for the match,” Oikawa pushed; the end was in sight.  
  
_“You’re right! Okay, I’ll check with Akaashi on the day – you know, just in case he doesn’t like the idea of being late_.”  
  
Oikawa didn’t think Akaashi would object to Bokuto changing the plans or being late, but he kept that thought to himself.  
  
“Great! I’ll send along the location. And Bokkun, don’t worry about Saturday, everything will be fine.”  
  
“ _I hope so. Thanks for everything!_ ”  
  
His phone vibrated. “Take Akaashi-chan to the tea shop okay! Bye!”  
  
He flicked through to his messages with shaking hands – from nerves or adrenaline he wasn’t sure anymore – and there was finally a mark by Akaashi’s name. He tapped it open.  
  
_Oikawa-san, I would appreciate it if you could refrain from contacting me any further this evening as it is not possible for me to answer while I am tending to the tea room. I am also not entirely certain of what you are trying to ask about Iwaizumi-san, but you could always consider grovelling. Good night._  
  
“ _Grovelling?!_ ” Oikawa cried out to the room. “Akaashi-chan, you couldn’t come up with something better than grovelling—”  
  
Oikawa paused that thought as another came to mind. He mulled over the idea, shaping it into a more solid form, a grin slowly appearing on his face.  



	5. Friday

Patience was an essential trait that Iwaizumi had refined over the years. It was required for work; waiting for the yeast to rise, or for the cakes and scones and bread to bake. It was required when dealing with people; waiting for Akaashi to talk to him, or Hanamaki to own up to pinching a profiterole (or if any weren’t available then a different confectionary) at least once a week during his afternoon breaks.  
  
Iwaizumi glanced at the clock again – quarter past eleven.  
  
Oikawa was currently testing his patience. And he wasn’t even here yet.  
  
There was half an hour left before Iwaizumi headed out for lunch so he didn’t bump into Akaashi. He had done the same yesterday, waking up at an ungodly hour of four, knocking back a large, strong cup of coffee that left a burning trail down to his gut, and rushing to the tea room before five to make up for the extra time he was taking for lunch. He wasn’t doing it for himself to avoid confrontations, it was for the sake of everyone else so they wouldn’t feel uneasy with the weird tension building up at the back of the shop.  
  
So he told himself.  
  
Iwaizumi jumped at the sudden thud against the door and he got into position facing the lone empty bowl on the counter to give the impression he was working; Oikawa definitely didn’t need more ammunition for teasing by finding out Iwaizumi had been waiting for him.  
  
That was the idea anyway, but Oikawa wasn’t entering, and there was a lot of scuffling and banging and scratching against the door, so Iwaizumi gave up this plan and cautiously walked over, determinedly stomping down the feeling that something Very Wrong was waiting for him beyond the door.  
  
“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa called from the other side. “Let me in!”  
  
His hand hovered over the handle and then he pushed it down, opening the door.  
  
Iwaizumi’s brain temporarily stopped as he stared at the bouquet of roses large enough to hide Oikawa’s face in one arm (and there was a joke in there somewhere, hidden from his dumbstruck mind) and some kind of gift basket in his other (of what looked like coffee, and he prayed he was wrong because being right would mean that both of those things were intended for him.)  
  
“What the—”  
  
Oikawa pushed his way past, and Iwaizumi’s brain kicked back into gear.  
  
“You can’t bring that into the kitchen!”  
  
Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa and his protests and the extravaganza in his arms to the front of the shop and around the counter until they were in the open space by the door.  
  
“Tell me someone gave you those on the way here.”  
  
“No, silly, they’re for you!”  
  
Oikawa thrust the bouquet to his chest which Iwaizumi had no choice but to grab, the sweet fragrance only accentuating the surrealness of the scene.  
  
“It took me a while to decide, but you seem like the traditional type so I settled on roses in the end. And this—”  
  
Iwaizumi just barely managed to look over the top of the flowers before he was also grappling the basket; now there was also a faint waft of coffee that didn't mix well with the roses.  
  
“It’s supposedly one of the best coffees you can get in Tokyo!”  
  
“Oikawa—”  
  
Oikawa then lowered himself down onto his left knee.  
  
Iwaizumi dropped everything, dread flooding through him like a torrent.  
  
“Are you – are you fucking proposing?!”  
  
“Of course not! Oh, well, technically it could be considered a proposal—”  
  
“What?!” Iwaizumi grabbed his arm and tried to tug him up. “Get up from there!”  
  
Oikawa immediately tried to pry off Iwaizumi’s fingers – and nearly succeeded, which made Iwaizumi think _fuck, he’s strong_ , before he resorted to using both hands, tightening his grip to pull him up.  
  
Oikawa pulled back. “I’m joking – Iwa-chan, get off me! I’m trying to grovel!”  
  
“Grovel?! What the hell are you grovelling for?!”  
  
“To ask you out on a date!”  
  
“Who in their right mind—”  
  
“Akaashi-chan said to get you to agree to a date I should try grovelling!”  
  
“Akaashi said what?! He wouldn’t – you can’t – I can’t fucking take you seriously like this!”  
  
Fed up with the tug of war, Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa by his jacket and hauled him up to his feet, finishing off with a shove that had him stumbling back a few steps. Oikawa straightened and brushed down his jacket with a small frown.  
  
“Most people just _ask_ someone if they want to go on a date!” Iwaizumi shouted.  
  
Oikawa crossed his arms. “And if I did, would you have said yes?”  
  
“How should I know, you went way past dating when you got on one knee!”  
  
Iwaizumi tried to steady his shaky breathing and shaken mind, chest heaving like he had run the distance between here and his home.  
  
“So if I—”  
  
“ _Don’t_.”  
  
Iwaizumi rubbed a hand over his face. “Last week you were complaining about my food, throwing all these innuendos around without a pinch of remorse. Then you’re travelling four hours to buy me bread to apologise. _Then_ , you’re telling me you want to sleep with me and today you’re giving me all this for a date? Help me out, Oikawa, I’m getting a lot of mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”  
  
“Just agree to go out to lunch with me tomorrow,” Oikawa said, so easily, expecting the same for a reply.  
  
Iwaizumi opened his mouth, taking a moment to form the right answer – and the right way of answering – in his head.  
  
“No, Oikawa.”  
  
Something nicked the inside of his chest when Iwaizumi watched the hopeful look on Oikawa crack and crumble into despair. He gritted his teeth and diverted his attention to the madness so that he could cling to the outrage that was one hundred percent justified.  
  
“Why?” Oikawa’s plea was faint.  
  
“ _Why?_ Because I don’t know how much of you I’m supposed to believe! You do something that’s kind and considerate and way beyond what a normal person would do for someone they know, let alone someone they barely know, and the next second you’re putting on this front that’s two extremes of buttery or trashy, and I’m trying my best to believe that the parts I see that are decent are the real you—”  
  
“ _All of the parts are the real me!_ ” Oikawa broke out, a cold shock dowsing Iwaizumi and paralysing him into temporary silence. “Whether you like it or not, they’re all a part of who I am! And if you can’t accept that, I’m not sure what it is I’m seeing in _you_ that makes me want to be with you!”  
  
Those words sparked anger. “I got the impression it was for the good fuck you seem to so desperately want! Isn’t that why you came yesterday? To slip yourself in when I'm most vulnerable?”  
  
Oikawa quietened; Iwaizumi wavered at the sudden change in temper.  
  
“You don’t get to have the moral high ground, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, voice hushed. “Not when you’ve been pushing me away with insults and not a single word of thank you. Like I wouldn’t notice. Like I wouldn’t care.”  
  
They were the same accusations that had also been gnawing at Iwaizumi’s conscience for the past couple of days as he convinced himself that if Oikawa had been affected by anything Iwaizumi had said there would have been a noticeable shift in mood.  
  
“Yesterday had nothing to do with you owing me or me gaining favour with you – I came because I was genuinely concerned. You don’t know how hard that was for me. Nothing was out of the ordinary when I met you, and while you started off as a potential one-off, halfway through the week I’m realising I’m falling for you and I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do. I’ve avoided relationships for so long, playing off other people’s invitations without any strings attached, and I’ve had to reconsider my whole perspective on the way I live. I said to you I know how Akaashi-chan feels. Past experiences told me that I’m useless at relationships and I don’t put in the effort, that it’s never exclusive because me being friendly is mistaken for me flirting. But I thought maybe I could try again – because it’s _you_.”  
  
Oikawa turned his back to him with a soft groan, frustrated enough to slowly run both hands through his styled hair.  
  
“The only other thing I know to do in these situations is to be suggestive and you don’t like that. So I chose this way because it was the only alternative I could think of. I’m not trying to buy your affections, I just thought… I thought you might find humour in it, if it was at the expense of my dignity.”  
  
The earlier cut split wider and deeper as each of Oikawa’s words scored Iwaizumi’s heart; this wasn’t what he wanted, he wanted to smooth it over, start from scratch, mark a new pattern on the surface, neat and elegant – not one frantic with gashes.  
  
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do right, so I tried to do what I thought was right,” Oikawa said, turning back to Iwaizumi with a pained smile. He suddenly shook his head with a hollow laugh. “But I should have known better, shouldn’t I? That nothing I do would be right for you.”  
  
The sentence hung in the air like it wasn’t finished, but Oikawa spoke no more, and Iwaizumi wanted to say something, but he didn’t know where to begin. The chance was there – ten seconds, thirty seconds, a minute – and then it was gone when Oikawa walked around the counter and disappeared out of the room, leaving Iwaizumi to stare down at the gifts scattered on the floor as he listened to footsteps fade.  
  
The back door opened with a quiet creak, and closed with a firm thud.

 

*

 

Oikawa sat curled on the corner of the sofa, his thumb hovering over the screen.  
  
Kuroo, or Bokuto. Or both.  
  
Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to ring Bokuto, not when it was his big day tomorrow. He could admit to being self-centered at times, but even he knew where to draw the line.  
   
Which left Kuroo, who would let him talk and say what he wanted to hear, but he didn’t feel like reliving the morning either.  
  
With a sigh he half threw the phone onto the coffee table and pressed his face into the cushion.  
  
Iwaizumi getting annoyed was already within his range of predictions, but he didn’t expect his plan to backfire so spectacularly. What had he done wrong? He scratched that question – he had done everything wrong. This whole week was a big entanglement of wrong decisions, disregarding the classic template for confessing and dating and intimacy – it was classic for a reason, why did he think he could get away with messing it up? And more to the point, why did he think it would be a good idea to tamper with his own rules in the first place?  
  
If given the opportunity, he would erase the week completely.  
  
The doorbell to his front door rang out. Oikawa didn’t move; it was only going to be the delivery man again with another sample or product for him to review. He could just leave it and let the parcels be shoved into one of the delivery boxes downstairs for him to fetch later.  
  
It rang again - twice. He had already made one person’s life difficult today, he didn’t need to go and do the same for another. Oikawa dragged himself up, lightly slapped his face as he shuffled down the hallway, replacing his frown with a wide smile, unlocking and peering around the door.  
  
He dropped his smile.  
  
Iwaizumi shouldn’t be standing in front of his apartment, he should be at home, glad to have gotten rid of the nuisance that was Oikawa so he could forever bake in peace. Because the fact that he was here gave Oikawa expectations that he deliberately made his way here to make amends, and Oikawa didn’t want those expectations when they had already been pulverised once today.  
  
“How do you know where I live?” Oikawa finally asked.  
  
“Matsukawa told me.”  
  
Iwaizumi stared as if daring Oikawa to accuse him of lying.  
  
Oikawa readily accepted the dare.  
  
“It was Mattsun via Makki, wasn’t it?”  
  
“I swear Matsukawa knows, and he’s just pretending not to and shifting the blame onto him.”  
  
The corner of Oikawa’s lips twitched involuntarily and Iwaizumi’s tension relaxed ever so slightly.  
  
He wasn’t going to let Iwaizumi off the hook so easily. “What did you want?”  
  
Iwaizumi stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked aside. “I was hoping we could… talk.”  
  
Oikawa didn’t miss a beat. “You seemed quite done with that this morning,” he said, his voice bitter and dejected.  
  
“I forgot to mention some things.”  
  
Oikawa continued to stand on guard until Iwaizumi looked up at him with an earnestness in his dark eyes Oikawa couldn’t reject. He stepped aside, holding the door open as Iwaizumi entered and pulled off his shoes, lining them up before walking down the hallway through to the living room.  
  
“Feel free to make yourself at home,” Oikawa called. “Or as close to it as you can, it’s probably too cluttered for your liking.” He closed the door and inhaled counting to four, exhaling for twice as long. It did nothing to stop the hammering in his chest.  
  
“What do you want to drink?” He asked upon entering the room, finding Iwaizumi hovering by the doorway. “I, unlike someone I know, have a wide selection.”  
  
Iwaizumi shrugged. “Whatever you’re having.”  
  
“Well, it’s a Friday night and I have a couple of articles to edit, so I was thinking I would finish them over a glass of wine.”  
  
“Yeah. Sure. Sounds good.”  
  
Oikawa’s gaze lingered on Iwaizumi for a second longer, then he went into the kitchen to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of white and after a short pause, another smaller bottle. He opened both, poured himself a generous glass and returned to the room where Iwaizumi was still standing.  
  
Oikawa held up the bottle in front of Iwaizumi’s face. “Let me guess – you don’t mind drinking wine, but you would actually prefer beer.”  
  
Iwaizumi blinked, then slipped the bottle out from his loose grip. “Something like that.”  
  
If they were on friendlier terms Oikawa would have clinked his glass and said ‘cheers’, but they weren’t, and he was feeling hostile, so he walked over to sit at the corner of the sofa he was huddled in earlier, this time assuming a relaxed pose, reclining back with his legs crossed.  
  
“You can sit down you know.”  
  
Iwaizumi approached hesitantly with none of the authority he had been displaying throughout the week and perched on the edge on the other side, where they fell into silence. Oikawa sipped his wine, staring at the laptop on the coffee table, and from the corner of his eyes he could see Iwaizumi take a swig of his beer.  
  
“You have a nice place,” Iwaizumi blurted. “It’s... like you brought the outdoors inside.”  
  
All of the rooms were earthy, decorated with plenty of greenery and splashes of blue here and there, a sanctuary he had created that helped him feel grounded after a long day of darting about the city and engaging with a whole spectrum of people. Aside from its location, the other reason for choosing this apartment was the darker shades of brown for the floorboards and doors which were unusual for new buildings when most designers favoured the lighter, cleaner look of white.  
  
“Thank you. Although I doubt you came all the way here to talk about the decor.” Oikawa took another sip. “Iwa-chan, I know you’re off the clock, but I have work to be getting on with—”  
  
“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi cut him off, looking directly at him. “I’m really sorry.”  
  
Oikawa wished Iwaizumi was more offensive because he was already halfway to forgiving him with that one sentence.  
  
Iwaizumi quickly turned back to the bottle which he rolled between his hands. “I’m sorry for this morning. And for the past week. I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, and you still came, day after day. I should’ve appreciated what you were doing. Especially yesterday, you – you really helped me out. And I wanted to thank you for that.”  
  
Iwaizumi’s words were simple and direct, weighted with guilt and regret, swiftly hacking down the rest of Oikawa’s resolve to not forgive him.  
  
Oikawa sighed, extending a peace offering from his side in exchange. “You’re not the only one who needs to apologise. I made you feel uncomfortable so I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”  
  
Iwaizumi shook his head. “No, I reacted badly. I’m just – I’m not used to being showered with attention. And I’ve never had anyone give me flowers – or a gift basket of coffee, though I’m not sure most people – you know what, that’s not the point. It was a lot to take in. Throw in what’s happening with Akaashi, and what’s happening between him and me, and...”  
  
Iwaizumi hung his head. Oikawa wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them, or at the very least reach out with a comforting touch. He gripped his hold around the glass to stop himself.  
  
He helped him finish his sentence. “And you didn’t need me to make things difficult for you—”  
  
“That’s not what I meant!” Iwaizumi’s head snapped up, anger flaring in his eyes. “It doesn’t excuse what I said to you earlier. You accepted who I am without question and I didn’t do the same for you. I knew I should have said something – a sorry, a thank you, anything to acknowledge what you were doing and I didn’t. You were right to call me out on it. I just hope you’ll accept my apology.”  
  
The heavy air hung between them and it was suffocating Oikawa as much as it seemed to be suffocating Iwaizumi. He could steer this conversation in any direction, let it fizzle out to its demise or chop it here to be discarded.  
  
Or he could do what he did best – flip it round, sprinkle a touch of sweetness and revive its dulcet flavour.  
  
“Well, as you so rightly established I _am_ the bigger man, so I’ll put your temporary lapse in judgement as an unavoidable side effect of being overwhelmed by my brilliance.”  
  
Iwaizumi looked up at him, his brows furrowed, considering the sudden change in tone and whether it was genuine or a mask to conceal another emotion. Oikawa may not have been smiling, but he was sure Iwaizumi could tell he was being sincere.  
  
Iwaizumi huffed. “Your ego, Oikawa.”  
  
“Which you have to embrace,” Oikawa reminded.  
  
“Which I… do embrace,” Iwaizumi one-upped him, and Oikawa mentally commended him for his play.  
  
They took a brief respite with some more drink.  
  
“There is still one lingering matter left to discuss,” Oikawa prompted.  
  
“I know,” Iwaizumi sighed. “Look – I don’t do the quick in-and-out thing. And I told you how long it’s been since my last relationship. I’m... it’s like bread.”  
  
Oikawa burst out laughing. “Bread?!”  
  
Iwaizumi glanced to him with what was probably supposed to be a threatening glare, but instead made him look rundown. Oikawa washed the remainder of his laughter with wine, and though he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face, it was softened by alcohol, and the endearing comparison, and the sight of Iwaizumi struggling to do his best.  
  
“I mean, the steps to make bread, they take a long time. It’s a lot of waiting around, and a lot of repetition – folding, kneading, finding the right consistency. I take my time doing things, relationships included. That’s how I’ve always been and – I don’t know how things would work between us when one of us is fast and the other slow.”  
  
Oikawa’s mind worked quickly; Iwaizumi was throwing the possibility out there and letting Oikawa choose, and at the same time awaiting a response that would have them walking away in separate directions.  
  
As if Oikawa would let him go.  
  
“Iwa-chan, I think you’re mistaking one night stands for a compulsive need for sex. I don’t have a constant string of one offs, I just don’t say no if someone who wants a bit of fun happened to come along at the right time. You’d be surprised how often it doesn’t lead anywhere.”  
  
It was missable, the flash of Iwaizumi’s eyes lighting up. But Oikawa was a master at scrutinising and a collector of traits, who never let the smallest tell that could reveal something about a person escape his notice.  
  
“I’m perfectly happy to go at your pace. And while I’m an expert at many things, being in a relationship isn’t one of them, so it might be nice to take things steady for a change. I can’t promise to tone down my affections, I don’t have a built-in dial, but I can promise I won’t push you beyond your comfort zone.” Oikawa paused. “I made my intentions clear, but I still haven’t heard from you exactly what you’re after.”  
  
And there it was, Oikawa thought in surprise and delight, the red tint dusting Iwaizumi’s face.  
  
“I want to see what we can make out of this.”  
  
Iwaizumi drowned his embarrassment with the remainder of his beer until he was holding an empty bottle.  
  
Oikawa bit his lip to contain any sort of exclamation from popping out that might scare or irritate Iwaizumi, but there was one thing he couldn’t help but ask.  
  
“Was that an accidental or deliberate baking analogy?”  
  
Iwaizumi hid his face behind his arm as he rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
“I don’t want to keep you from your work,” Iwaizumi said, pushing himself up and placing the bottle on the coffee table, still doing everything to avoid facing Oikawa. “I’ll make my own way out.”  
  
“No, no!” Oikawa jumped up, some of the remaining wine splashing over the rim. “I’ll see you out!”  
  
Oikawa followed him to the entrance, and with the return of his good humour, decided to try his luck and said, “We really should go on a date though. Tomorrow. For lunch.”  
  
Iwaizumi crouched to put on his shoes. “I’ll have lunch with you, but it won’t be a date.”  
  
“Why not?!”  
  
“Because I’ve been having lunch with you for the past week. It’s—”  
  
Iwaizumi muttered something inaudible.  
  
Oikawa thought he heard right, but he wanted to make sure. “Iwa-chan, what was that?”  
  
Iwaizumi straightened up and finally turned to face him fully, his face a much deeper shade of red now, and Oikawa leaned closer until Iwaizumi pushed him away.  
  
“It’s not special enough, okay!” His growl was loud enough to echo down the hall and for anyone walking past outside to hear.  
  
"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa gasped. "I would never have taken you for such a romantic!”  
  
Iwaizumi glared at him, straight faced. “You’re an asshole.”  
  
“What did we just say about insults?!”  
  
“Anything you push for, you deserve.”  
  
“We’ve already been on three dates,” Oikawa insisted, then borrowed Kuroo’s examples as he counted on his fingers. “We always lunch by ourselves, we’ve exchanged lunches, we delved into past relationships, we’re entranced by each other’s conversations—”  
  
“None of those are dates! Tomorrow isn’t a date! Tomorrow is a thanks for yesterday! Say it one more time and I’m cancelling.”  
  
Knowing Iwaizumi, that threat would become real.  
  
“ _Fine_ ,” Oikawa resigned with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll come and pick you up for our extremely date-ish non-date.”  
  
Iwaizumi paused, as if considering whether or not that fell under the category of dating.  
  
“Fine,” he said, declaring it safe.  
  
They both stared, then Oikawa broke into a smile when he saw Iwaizumi grin; or maybe he smiled first that led Iwaizumi to grin, it was hard to tell.  
  
“See you tomorrow then,” Iwaizumi said as he stepped out and disappeared around the door.  
  
“Sleep well!” Oikawa teased, with the feeling that Iwaizumi was the type of person who would spend the night before a big event tossing and turning.  
  
As the door slowly closed, Oikawa called, “What flowers do you like, Iwa-chan?”  
  
“ _You don’t need flowers for a non-date, Asskawa!_ ” Iwaizumi yelled from down the corridor, and Oikawa was left beaming as the door clicked gently shut.


	6. Saturday

As Oikawa had promised the previous night, he came to pick up Iwaizumi at eleven for their lunch (if the word had been written, each of the five capital letters would have been repeatedly scrawled over, in red, underlining it one, two, three, four times _minimum_ ) and from there they headed back to the tonkatsu shack. The atmosphere was upbeat this time, Iwaizumi actually tasting his meal while listening to Oikawa chatter away about the food, the weather, the event he was going to in the evening.  
  
And then he was literally being dragged into a shop that was stuffed full of people, a stream of Oikawa’s commentary in his ear, a good half an hour spent on tasting what seemed like every single tea they had to offer. He gave up halfway through to stand by the cashier so that Oikawa could be the one making the effort of darting around putting teas into, and out of, and back into the basket Iwaizumi was put in charge of lugging around. At least now, back outside where he could breathe, Oikawa was the one carrying his shopping – two large paper bags full of them.  
  
“You really take advantage of people,” Iwaizumi commented as they ambled back to the tea room. One hand was stuffed in his pocket, the other around a hot cup of tea and he took a sip – something with orange and almond and a few other ingredients he couldn’t remember but tried to guess; he mused whether the same would work with muffins.  
  
“It’s not taking advantage when they push their goodwill onto me,” Oikawa replied happily, also taking a sip of his own tea and peering into the bags hanging off his wrist. “I would have stopped at seven, but the owner came and started piling teas into my arms – I couldn’t refuse! Anyway, they want me to write a lengthy article on it, which is much easier to do with more comparisons.”  
  
Oikawa began humming after that, occasionally muttering under his breath; Iwaizumi guessed he was drafting out the article in his head. No longer in the bustle and with Oikawa preoccupied, Iwaizumi replayed the scene with Akaashi.  
  
To anyone who might have been eavesdropping (Oikawa, for example, who was at a distance, but not so far a distance that he couldn’t catch snippets of their conversation) it wouldn’t have been much of an exchange. Between him and Akaashi, it was a significant moment where they lay the issues on the table and came to an understanding. The moment Akaashi agreed to disclose his past Iwaizumi knew he wouldn’t be left in the dark much longer, and though they had yet to talk, he felt relief wash over him.  
  
Which reminded him.  
  
“Thanks, by the way.”  
  
“For what?” Oikawa’s reply was distracted, his attention still elsewhere.  
  
“You know what.”  
  
Oikawa looked up from noseying into the bags. “Iwa-chan, I do so much for you already, you’re going to have to be more specific. Was it bringing you to the tea shop? Or my enchanting conversation during lunch? Or maybe—”  
  
“Having me run into Akaashi so we could talk it out.”  
  
“Hmm?” Oikawa wrapped both hands around the tea, hunching over as he took a sip. “I’m not sure what you mean. Bokkun and Akaashi-chan are on a date, why would I do anything to interfere with that?”  
  
“Being coy doesn’t suit you. I heard you – you practically said you were waiting for them.”  
  
Oikawa tilted his head to the side. “Iwa-chan, are you sure you didn’t overhear someone else’s conversation?”  
  
“If you’re not gonna own up—”  
  
Iwaizumi stopped, grabbing his rucksack to the front and unzipping it open.  
  
Seeing the brown paper bag suddenly made him have second doubts on what he was about to do.  
  
This was Oikawa’s favourite food. Five days ago, the only thing he cared about was about making Oikawa wish he hadn’t complained. Fast forward to today and the only thing he cared about was whether Oikawa would like what he made. He didn’t know what he would do if Oikawa hated it. Look into a job transfer, maybe.  
  
“What are you looking for?” Oikawa asked, walking up to him and trying to catch sight of what was in his bag.  
  
Iwaizumi made up his mind to pull it out and dangled it in front of Oikawa’s face like bait.  
  
“Tell me you planned it and I’ll give you this.”  
  
Oikawa locked onto the bag, his smile and good humour and liveliness subsiding.  
  
“Is that what I think it is?” His voice was quiet.  
  
“Give me an answer and I’ll give it to you so you can find out for yourself.”  
  
Oikawa’s gaze shifted onto Iwaizumi. “I knew you and Akaashi-chan would end up leaving the problem and likely let it go unresolved, so I suggested to Bokkun that he should bring Akaashi-chan which would give you two a chance to talk. Bokkun doesn’t know what happened between you two so I couldn’t guarantee it would be successful.”  
  
“You couldn’t guarantee I’d agree to go with you either. Which is why I’m grateful you made it happen. Just accept my thanks.”  
  
Oikawa seemed to struggle with the openness, then replied with, “You’re welcome.” His gaze returned to the mystery bag.  
  
Iwaizumi shook it. “Are you gonna take it?”  
  
“I’m afraid if I do, everything will vanish and I’ll wake up to last week to find it was all a dream.”  
  
“Do you want me to punch you so you know it’s real?”  
  
“It’s a pinch not a punch – not that I want you to pinch me either.” It was strange to hear Oikawa speak without him exclaiming his mock indignation. “You said you were never going to bake milk bread again.”  
  
“I’ll say the same again if you don’t _hurry up and take it!_ ”  
  
Oikawa reached out for the bag. Iwaizumi wished he would move faster, just open the damn thing, tear the bag in the process, grab one, scoff it down and say what he thought. Instead, everything was in slow motion, Oikawa taking hold of the bag gently and placing it in the nook of his elbow of the arm holding the tea, cradling it like a precious baby. He opened the bag carefully, peered inside, then scrunched it closed again, looking up at Iwaizumi.  
  
“There’s more than one in here.”  
  
“Baking one is a waste of time. If I’m gonna bake, I’m gonna bake in batches,” Iwaizumi reasoned as casually as he could.  
  
Oikawa opened the bag again and dipped his hand in, pulling out a milk bread and staring at it reverently.  
  
“Will you just eat the goddamn thing already?!”  
  
“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispered, “this is a sacred moment between me and the milk bread. Don’t rush us.”  
  
Iwaizumi was torn between continuing to watch, turning his back to him, grabbing the bag back, and shoving the milk bread into his mouth not unlike the way he shoved it into Akaashi’s on Sunday.  
  
_Finally_ , Oikawa lifted the milk bread to his lips, taking a modest bite out of the sandwich, and then he closed his eyes, chewing deliberately slow to savour the taste. In contrast to his unhurried pace, Iwaizumi’s heartbeat was fast and erratic.  
  
“Well?” Iwaizumi demanded.  
  
Oikawa opened his eyes, his face serious. “Iwa-chan, bake me this every day.”  
  
Iwaizumi clenched his hand inside the pocket into a fist pump.  
  
His face didn’t twitch.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Can I hire you to become my full-time baker?”  
  
“I have a job, so no.”  
  
“Can I commission you to deliver weekly batches?”  
  
“Still a no.”  
  
Oikawa stared back down at the milk bread, clearly trying to think of a way for Iwaizumi to bake more while looking like he might cry.  
  
“You… you don’t need to pay me, Oikawa. I’ll bake you some when I have time.”  
  
Oikawa’s face lit up and Iwaizumi felt like he shouldn’t be feeling so hot on a day this cold.  
  
Oikawa took another bite. “This is _amazing_ , Iwa-chan,” he said with his mouth full.  
  
“I’m surprised you think that seeing as none of my other desserts were good enough for you. Actually, I expected you to complain.”  
  
“Why would I complain about something that’s perfect?” Oikawa cried out, like the thought scandalised him. “Everything already tasted subpar next to milk bread. Now, this milk bread is crowned king of milk breads making all other milk breads unworthy of being eaten. I will never be able to eat another milk bread again. You are now solely responsible for providing me with milk bread.”  
  
“That’s an exaggeration,” Iwaizumi muttered, though hearing Oikawa say that made him happier than any compliment he had ever received, and that included those from his tutor.  
  
He then frowned as a thought snapped into place. “Hang on. This is a stab in the dark but – did you complain about my desserts because you were comparing them to _milk bread_?”  
  
Oikawa swallowed his bite, his face still serious. “Milk bread is the greatest thing since sliced bread, which is still the number one greatest thing because – albeit most milk bread being sliced horizontally – without it we would be without milk bread. I mean the real kind, with the thick cream filling, not the disappointment that is milk as an ingredient of the bread. Nothing will ever surpass it.”  
  
Iwaizumi opened his mouth and paused, searching for the right words. “You are unbelievable. You didn’t think to mention that? What was all that about sweetening me up then?!”  
  
“That was because you were smouldering, and it was the hottest thing I had ever seen,” Oikawa replied candidly. “And you only got hotter the more you got angry, so I may have deliberately pushed your buttons.”  
  
Iwaizumi had no idea how to respond so he made the choice of closing his mouth and leaving Oikawa to take a third bite of his milk bread to eat in peace—  
  
He reached out without thinking, pausing short of a touch when his brain caught up with his action. A quick glance at Oikawa – who had stopped chewing and was watching intently – confirmed it was too late to ditch the move.  
  
Iwaizumi rested his hand along Oikawa’s jaw and around the curve of his neck, and he brushed the cream off the corner of his lips with his thumb; Oikawa’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and he parted his lips a fraction.  
  
“You had cream on you.”  
  
His voice rang clear, not matching the tremble of his hand, and though the cream was now gone he couldn’t peel his hand away from the smooth shaven skin, delicate hair wisping around his fingers.  
  
A fleck of snow fluttered between them and Iwaizumi looked overhead to find others sprinkling from the sky. He followed another drifting down until his gaze levelled with Oikawa’s.  
  
“This would be a perfect moment for you to kiss me,” Oikawa suggested softly.  
  
He furrowed his brows. “But it’s not a date,” he reminded, his voice hoarse.  
  
Oikawa’s smile was reminiscent of the day they ate freshly-baked bread at his house, this time nine parts fond and a touch amused, the remaining one part a dark secret kindling something deep in Iwaizumi that almost had him leaning in.  
  
“So you won’t,” Oikawa broke the spell.  
  
Iwaizumi shook his head – as a reply and to shed the remnants of his trance – and took a step back, his fingertips lingering a second longer, and then the cold air was erasing any trace of warmth that had seeped into his skin.  
  
He stuffed his hand back into his pocket, now marked with a phantom burn. “We should get moving.”  
  
They continued their journey in silence, Iwaizumi mentally berating himself, wondering what the hell was wrong with him to pass up the moment – a _perfect_ moment – to kiss Oikawa. Closing the gap would have been effortless. It was like he had stubbornly refused the perfect route generously set out for him by fate only so he could go and prove his resolve that he would take his time.  
  
...Should he have done it?  
  
“Iwa-chan, there’ll be other moments.”  
  
Iwaizumi turned to Oikawa who shot him a quick side glance before looking up ahead.  
  
“I can wait however long it takes for your feelings to fully rise.”  
  
Iwaizumi nearly laughed, reining it in at the last second because he wouldn’t want Oikawa to get the idea that his timing was impeccable and he was being remotely funny.  
  
“You’re not gonna cut me any slack, are you?” he asked, the humour in his tone apparent.  
  
“The analogies are delectable and they will never perish so long as I have anything to do with it.”  
  
Iwaizumi hid his face behind his hand to cover his smile, shaking his head. “Stop. Just stop.”  
  
They settled down into another more comfortable bout of silence that continued until they reached the tea room.  
  
“This is me,” Iwaizumi said, turning to Oikawa to find him holding out one of the bags.  
  
“This one’s for you. For when you have a guest over who doesn’t feel like drinking coffee. By the way, I will have to come round in the near future to taste them all and take photos.”  
  
“You’re just making an excuse to barge into my place.”  
  
“If that’s not reason good enough, I can always bribe you with more bread from your old bakery.”  
  
“You’ll want to save that hand for when you’re really in a pinch,” Iwaizumi suggested, taking the bag; he made no move to go inside.  
  
Just as he opened his mouth, Oikawa said, “Iwa-chan, are you free this evening? There’s a casual event down in Odaiba, open for anyone though it’s mainly aimed at people in social media so they can build contacts. I thought it might give you a chance to see the kind of things I’m involved in, as I’m almost certain you have no idea what it is I do.”  
  
Oikawa paused, then added as an afterthought, “It’s a work thing so it won’t count as a date.”  
  
Iwaizumi nodded slowly. “Sure. I’ll go.”  
  
“Great! It’ll be easier to meet there – I’ll send you the details so let me know when you arrive.”  
  
And just like that, they had scheduled something else. Iwaizumi felt like there was an unwritten rule that meeting consecutively for a week was questionable, twice in one day was out of the question – but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care about the norm when he was offered even one second more to spend with Oikawa.

   


*

   


If Oikawa was to pick one strength (out of the countless many he undeniably possessed) the one he was most proud of was that he was a people person through and through. He wasn’t delusional to think he could gain _everyone’s_ favour, but neither did that knowledge stop him from trying. People always thought of him as a vibrant, confident, delightful person, and he had to admit, he thought that of himself, too.  
  
But as with all people, he had his fair share of layers concealed under his outgoing personality that only his closest circle of friends managed to pare into. And it was precisely because of this that he had given Iwaizumi – standing beside him with a glass of champagne in his hand calmly reviewing the room – the impromptu invitation to join him this evening.  
  
“That one with the silver-hair is Suga-chan, his personality Mr. Refreshing, his persona Mr. Hot and Spicy – I didn’t make that up, that’s the actual name he uses on his blog, he goes around Japan trying out the hottest and spiciest foods there are,” Oikawa continued pointing out to give brief profiles on some of the people he knew. “And next to him is Sawacchi – he runs a fitness blog. _Everybody_ loves him.”  
  
Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Watch the fitness regimes he puts up on his blog and tell me he doesn’t have the muscles and form of a Greek god. Not to mention he replies to every single comment without a hint of sarcasm. Even the ones that are just emoji or asking him out.”  
  
Iwaizumi raised both eyebrows. “I believe you and I don’t judge you.”  
  
“So? What do you think?” Oikawa asked.  
  
“It’s lively,” Iwaizumi commented, then fell back into his quiet observation.  
  
Kuroo’s words echoed in his head, that he was unable to read Iwaizumi like he could others. He felt helpless as question marks multiplied in his head over what Iwaizumi was thinking about the event, about his job, about _him_.  
  
“Aren’t you going to go and talk to them?” Iwaizumi asked.  
  
Oikawa perked up. “Of course! I think you’ll get on well with them, especially Sawacchi—”  
  
“I’m gonna stay over here.”  
  
Oikawa felt a little put out. “You don’t want to come and meet them?”  
  
“It’s not the case of not wanting to, I don’t want to interfere with your work which is what’ll happen if I tag along.”  
  
“No one will think you’re interfering with anything, least of all me,” Oikawa said, his brows creasing.  
  
“I’m just adjusting. Seriously, I’m fine waiting here.”  
  
And then it clicked, that Iwaizumi – reserved, attentive, _solitary_ Iwaizumi – was more at ease when he wasn’t mingling among the crowds.  
  
Oikawa threw him a half apologetic, half appreciative smile. “I’ll just say hello to some familiar faces and then we can go someplace else – I won’t be long.”  
  
Sugawara noticed Oikawa approach and pulled him into his circle of friends; it was nice to see them face to face when their work revolved around their digital presence, and he was better able to gauge their reactions. A little while later he glanced over at Iwaizumi who was still standing where he left him; a group of people walked up to him, chatting for a moment before Iwaizumi shook his head and they left, and then Iwaizumi was back looking in his direction – maybe even looking at him. Feeling flustered, Oikawa turned his attention back to Sugawara and Sawamura, and slid back into the conversation.  
  
“Seems like you’re having a good time,” Oikawa heard a familiar voice say from behind and turned round.  
  
“Mattsun! I thought you were working?”  
  
Oikawa knew Matsukawa originally planned to attend tonight until he volunteered to take Akaashi’s place at work. It didn’t make sense to see him here.  
  
“We had a grand total of four customers entering and leaving within the first hour of opening. Iwaizumi sent us home early.”  
  
“That’s very responsible of Iwa-chan. Did you bring Makki, too?”  
  
“He’s somewhere over by the food. I saw Iwaizumi—”  
  
“Oh, did you speak with him?” Oikawa glanced at the time. “I think he’s—”  
  
He checked the time again and calculated. He had been talking for over an hour. He had left Iwaizumi’s side for over an hour. He had forgotten and abandoned Iwaizumi for _one whole hour_.  
  
“I saw Iwaizumi leave,” Matsukawa finished, the meaning behind his words and look ladened.  
  
“Shit. _Shit._ Sorry, I need to go—”  
  
Oikawa couldn’t hear what was being said to him, weaving past people and throwing out apologies as he headed for the door. He intended to talk for ten, fifteen minutes at most, which was what most people could endure when waiting on someone conversing with another. Thirty was the mark for impatience, forty-five agitation, and sixty – well, he might as well forget it once he passed sixty.  
  
The snow began beating on his face as soon as he stepped outside, not a single person in sight in either direction except up ahead, a blurry smudge that might have resembled a figure looking out at the hazy coloured dots across the Rainbow Bridge leading to those clustered in Tokyo.  
  
“Iwa-chan!”  
  
Oikawa made his way over as quickly as he could in the snow that had settled to reach halfway up his shoes; Iwaizumi didn't turn round to his name.  


“I’m so sorry!" Oikawa said when eventually reaching him. "I completely forgot to keep track of time.”  
  
Iwaizumi finally looked in his direction, more unfazed than Oikawa imagined. “It’s fine. I needed some air.”  
  
“Mattsun said he saw you leaving so I thought you might have... left.”  
  
Iwaizumi frowned. “I sent you a message.”  
  
Oikawa pulled out his phone and sure enough there was a message on his screen from ‘Iwa-chan♡’ – _Heading out for five._  
  
“Oh.” Oikawa blinked then said brightly and relieved, “Oh! Well, that’s okay—”  
  
“You thought I left without telling you.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a simple remark.  
  
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time for that to happen,” Oikawa said, keeping his voice casual, coming to stand next to him. He wiped off the snow from the railing to rest his arms. “I become too engrossed in conversation and people get bored.”  
  
The cold was quickly devouring his warmth; he wished he had brought his coat or scarf – even gloves would have sufficed, but that had been far from his mind.  
  
He hadn’t felt panic like that in a long time.  
  
“Oikawa, why did you ask me here tonight?”  
  
Trust Iwaizumi to know there was an ulterior motive. Oikawa sighed, his breath dissolving in the wind as soon as it was released.  
  
“The final day of my last relationship was at a place like this – we were steady, dating for at least six months, and I was still new at this whole influencer business. Halfway through the night my girlfriend at the time broke up with me, accusing me of ignoring her and flirting with everyone.”  
  
It wasn’t a clear memory. The night was addled with drink and excitement – in fact he recalled more about the people he had been interacting with which showed exactly how much he thought of her in the first place. He did remember the gist of her accusations and her storming out, he remembered the initial panic - and not even five minutes had passed before he was back to networking like nothing had happened.  
  
“Looking back, I don’t think she was wrong. I was still fresh and overexcited with the prospects, doing anything to make a good, lasting impression of myself. I guess a part of me suspects I haven’t grown out of it, which is why I wanted you to see firsthand the kind of person you were going to be with and whether you were prepared to tolerate it.”  
  
Oikawa risked a glance at Iwaizumi, who was still watching him with an unreadable expression. Why was it that when it came to the person who mattered the most, he had no clue as to what they were thinking?  
  
“I was watching you the whole time,” Iwaizumi started. “The way you engaged with everyone, making them focus on you – you owned the space. That’s not something you can do with a couple of recycled openers and some second-rate behaviour like flirting or flattery. I don’t know what you were like in the past. But the you I see now – I admire the power you have to draw everyone to you. It’s not something anyone can do. I sure as hell can’t. And I could see you were out there enjoying yourself. And I enjoyed myself watching you.”  
  
Oikawa was glad for the weather because he could blame his burning face on the snow.  
  
“I think that’s the first time you complimented me,” Oikawa said slowly, then narrowed his eyes. “How many drinks have you had?”  
  
“I’m not drunk. I had three… maybe four… I dunno, they just kept bringing me drinks.”  
  
“That would be because you kept drinking it. You’re supposed to hold a full glass if you don’t want more.”  
  
Iwaizumi grunted and turned back to watching the bay, hanging his arms over the rail. “I’m sober enough to know what I’m saying. The brain to mouth filter is just looser.”  
  
Oikawa thought it was completely dislodged, but he didn’t mention this fact in case Iwaizumi set it back in place again. Oikawa was all for accepting challenges but he wasn’t going to rebuff his granted wish of having Iwaizumi say what was on his mind and deliberately give himself a disadvantage.  
  
Oikawa sidled closer so their shoulders bumped. “Thank you.”  
  
“You don’t need to repress who you are,” Iwaizumi pushed on like he hadn’t heard. “I was wrong about what I said yesterday, you know that right? I really wished I could take it back. Don’t ever hesitate to tell me anything, Oikawa. Don’t ever hold yourself back in front of me.”  
  
Oikawa was torn between feeling pleased and mortified, on behalf of him and also Iwaizumi; it was an extremely rare combination of emotions. “Iwa-chan, stop! Alcohol is like a truth serum for you!”  
  
Iwaizumi shook his head firmly. “It doesn’t matter – everything I’m telling you now I’d end up telling you eventually. Every day this past week I found myself drawn to you—”  
  
“No really, I don’t think I can take it—”  
  
“—your smile, your laugh, even your whining. And I know  everyone else must feel like that too because you get friendly and – yeah, that makes me a little jealous, but I can tell you’re drawn to me more than just physically and – what I’m trying to say is that I trust you.”  
  
Iwaizumi turned to him – his face was red but it was likely a mixture of alcohol and the cold, not like Oikawa’s which was one million percent embarrassment from hearing Iwaizumi talk about him like so.  
  
“I want you to trust me. And trust that the lengths you went to for me, I’d do the same for you.”  
  
Iwaizumi reached out again, mirroring the action he made during lunch except with none of the hesitation in his movement or reflected in his eyes. His touch (his delicate, intentional touch, not the cold, nor the wind, nor the snow) sent a shiver through him, sent a signal straight to his heart to start fluttering.  
  
Iwaizumi leaned forward, slowly, closer, past his earlier point of uncertainty and with no sign of stopping at least on his end, though there was enough give to allow Oikawa to stop him if he wanted.  
  
He didn’t want to. He was so used to this part, a brief kiss to see if the feel was right, if they clicked, tasting of alcohol and lust and mutual agreement that nothing lasting would emerge beyond the one night; it was a reflex of his to show his interest and eagerness by leaning in to seal the temporary arrangement.  
  
“This isn’t a date,” Oikawa gently reminded, stopping himself from acting on impulse, stopping Iwaizumi mere centimetres away with each breath leaving an invisible kiss of what could be on his lips.  
  
“It’s not a date,” Iwaizumi agreed, almost as a reminder to himself. “But I want to kiss you – if you’ll let me.”  
  
There it was, the familiar twisting and tightening low in his abdomen. He envisaged it to be the other way round, that he wouldn’t be able to stop pushing himself onto Iwaizumi, and yet here they were, Iwaizumi the initiator and Oikawa a quivering, anticipatory mess.  
  
Oikawa began chuckling at that thought. He laughed at the string of Iwaizumi’s honest, drunken babbling, and at the fact they stood freezing on the pier with Tokyo lights glittering in the distance and snow dancing around them as spectators to their show and how anyone would be envious to have this as the backdrop to their first kiss. His laugh was giddy and loud and shattered the mood, and he had never felt so overjoyed.  
  
He let his amusement descend naturally in its own time until he could compose himself, noting that Iwaizumi had been watching and waiting – not annoyed, not offended, just waiting on Oikawa.  
  
“That’s the alcohol talking,” Oikawa finally said, taking Iwaizumi’s hand and returning it gently to him. “And we’ve held out this long, what’s another day? We owe it to ourselves to have our first kiss taste better than cheap champagne.”  
  
Oikawa already had more than his fair share of those. He wanted something different with Iwaizumi, something... special.  
  
Iwaizumi slowly pulled back. “Tomorrow?”  
  
“After you finish.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“I’ll message you.”  
  
Iwaizumi accepted this arrangement with a nod and then turned again to the waters. Oikawa did the same, rubbing his hands together and blowing into them in a futile attempt to warm them up.  
  
A hand came out in front of his face, obstructing the view.  
  
“What’s this?”  
  
“Give me your hand.”  
  
“Are you trying to leech what little warmth I have left?”  
  
“Just give me your hand.”  
  
Oikawa hesitated. Then he reached out slowly, placing his hand on top of Iwaizumi’s, strong and smooth and (as suspected) more cold than warm. Iwaizumi entangled their fingers together and guided their hands down to hang between them, all the while still gazing out at the scenery like none of this was happening.

His hand already felt warmer.  
  
“You shouldn’t be this suave,” Oikawa mumbled.  
  
Iwaizumi snorted. “You shouldn’t be this shy.”  
  
Oikawa put it down to the alcohol. If they were sober, he would be leading this show and Iwaizumi would be the one left flustered.  
             
“We’ll see who makes who shy tomorrow,” Oikawa challenged, and shooting Iwaizumi a glance he saw a small grin that affirmed his challenge was accepted.  



	7. Sunday

In the three (nearly four) years of working in Tokyo, Iwaizumi hadn’t come across this much snow. In fact, as soon as he stepped outside of his apartment into temperatures below freezing (that nearly cleared the faint dull thuds against the back of his skull), he had been tempted to take a step back and close the door again. But being a Responsible Adult he had pushed away the thought, closing and locking the door behind him to carefully make his way down the steps without slipping down to ground floor.  
  
After taking three times longer than usual, he rang the doorbell to Akaashi’s apartment. He had tried to call along the way (just in case, though he knew it was pointless) only for his attempts to be ignored. And now the doorbell was also going unanswered. He rang again, repeating this act of ringing and waiting until he heard some shuffling, and a thud, and the scrape of the lock and the click of the door.  
  
“Morning,” Iwaizumi said as soon as the door opened a crack.  
  
Akaashi, with his untamed curls sticking more haphazardly in all directions and a small frown that was aimed less at him and more at mornings in general, opened the door wider, blinking several times.  
  
“Iwaizumi-san, why are you here? What time is it?”  
  
“Nearly seven. I gave you a call – you didn’t pick up.” Iwaizumi nodded towards the nearest window of the corridor. “Have you looked outside this morning?”  
  
“I… can’t say I have,” Akaashi said, rubbing sleep out his eyes.  
  
“Guessed as much. You might want to.”  
  
Akaashi put on his shoes and leaving the front door open, walked along the corridor to stand in front of the nearest window a couple of metres away.  
  
“...I see.”  
  
“Yeah. What did you want to do? I’m here now so I don’t mind going in if you want to open.”  
  
Akaashi stared out blankly and Iwaizumi waited for a minute before wondering if he’d gone to sleep standing with his eyes open.  
  
“I think we should close for the day,” Akaashi finally spoke, his voice distant.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
Akaashi didn’t respond and Iwaizumi was growing suspicious. “Akaashi, you all right? Did something happen yesterday?”  
  
Akaashi turned to face him. “Everything’s fine, Iwaizumi-san.”  
  
Iwaizumi wondered if Akaashi had gone back to hiding things from him again.  
  
“I know you said you’d tell me what happened, but if you’re using that as an excuse to keep other stuff from me, I’m—”  
  
“Akaashi?”  
  
Iwaizumi turned, along with Akaashi, to the door to find Bokuto peering out in t-shirt and jeans. Iwaizumi knew that shirt. That too-tight-on-Bokuto, ‘keep calm and drink tea’ shirt everyone pitched in to buy for Akaashi’s birthday last year.  
  
Huh. Who’d have guessed.  
  
“Iwaizumi-san.”  
  
Iwaizumi turned to Akaashi, who seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid looking at him.  
  
“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?”  
  
And this was how Iwaizumi ended up sitting at Akaashi’s dining table while Akaashi was making tea after deliberating between:  
  
a) leaving because while he didn’t want to assume, let’s face it, there was only one reason Bokuto could be staying over with his hair freshly washed and his (and Akaashi’s) clothes a crumpled mess and his oblivious yawns breaking up the awkward silence; and  
  
b) staying because even though Akaashi knew it would be awkward and Iwaizumi would immediately piece the scene together, he had asked him to come in, Iwaizumi guessed not for the sole reason that he wanted to offer Iwaizumi a hot drink after taking nearly two hours to get here to speak to Akaashi who wouldn’t answer the phone, and finding out the trip had been for nothing.  
  
“So. Bokuto.” Iwaizumi paused. “San.”  
  
Bokuto raised his head at his name. “Just Bokuto’s fine! Any friend of Oikawa’s is a friend of mine.”  
  
“Bokuto.”  
  
And he stopped there because he realised he couldn’t ask a question without being given a reply that had something to do with the night before. And as he had already told himself many times, it was very clear what had happened the night before.  
  
Iwaizumi should have refused Akaashi’s offer.  
  
“Hey, was Oikawa right yesterday?” Bokuto began. “Were you two really on a date?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Bokuto’s face fell. “Oh. So you two aren’t...?”  
  
Iwaizumi wanted to deny it, but the knowledge that this was Oikawa’s friend who would find out anyway stopped him from keeping back the truth.  
  
“I’m seeing him tonight.”  
  
Bokuto’s face brightened; Iwaizumi wondered if there was a switch somewhere. “Oikawa’s a great guy! I know some people get put off at first, but once you get to know him you’ll see he’s only trying his best to make people happy. Just give him a chance.”  
  
“Yeah. I get that.” Iwaizumi cleared his throat. “So. You and Akaashi.”  
  
Bokuto glanced over at Akaashi and melted into a smile. He then scraped his seat closer to Iwaizumi, leaning in secretively; Iwaizumi prepared himself for the worst.  
  
“Iwaizumi,” Bokuto dropped his voice so it was barely audible even sitting this close. “I think I love him.”  
  
Iwaizumi startled back at this whispered confession. Bokuto was watching Akaashi, maybe to make sure he didn’t hear, almost definitely because it was to him he was directing the words.  
  
“But don’t say anything,” Bokuto turned to Iwaizumi. “I don’t want him to rush. I want him to tell me only when he’s really ready. I mean, who knows – he might decide he doesn’t feel the same way.”  
  
Iwaizumi heard the pain in Bokuto’s voice at the last thought. In that moment, Iwaizumi realised that he was going to be looking out for two people, not one.  
  
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. I’ve known him for long enough and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s… being with you makes him really happy.”  
  
Bokuto beamed, and it immediately reminded him of Oikawa, the full force of joy hitting him in that one tiny action.  
  
“Your tea,” Akaashi said, walking over with two teacups and placing them on the table, then going back to get his own. “Bokuto-san, would you mind if I have a word with Iwaizumi-san?”  
  
“No problem! I’m gonna have a look at the snow! Hey, maybe we can go out later and make snowmen?”  
  
Akaashi smiled – it was as soft as the powdered snow Iwaizumi had been trudging through not five minutes ago, and just like the snowfall that had settled over Tokyo he had never seen it before.  
  
“I would like that very much.”  
  
Once Bokuto was safely out of earshot looking outside the window on the other side of the room, Iwaizumi heard a sharp exhale from Akaashi.  
  
“Akaashi, I know I said you needed to move on, but I didn’t mean this quick.”  
  
“I’m aware. Things… happened.”  
  
“Yeah. I see that.”  
  
Akaashi sighed and brought his cup to his lips. “I will explain what happened along with everything else,” he said. He took a sip, releasing a satisfied sigh from tasting what was probably his first tea of the morning.  
  
Iwaizumi was a little surprised that Akaashi offered to talk, so he decided that anyone who got him past Ushijima couldn’t be all that bad.  
  
“Bokuto seems like a decent guy. I’m happy for you.”  
  
“Thank you. Should I also be expressing the same congratulations for you and Oikawa-san?”  
  
“First off, I know you think he’s not a decent guy and I agree that he’s an idiot sometimes. A lot of the time. Second, I know you’re not sure if you think you should be happy for me because he seems like a real pain in the ass. Which he is.”  
  
Iwaizumi picked up his tea. “But I’m okay with that. Because he has to put up with the same.” He took a sip; he knew it to be some kind of breakfast tea. The instant he swallowed, warmth spread throughout his body.  
  
“We’re a pair of idiots, aren’t we?”  
  
There was a faint grin on Akaashi’s lips. “Yes, we are.”  
  
They didn’t talk after that, Iwaizumi taking his time over the tea because, though he didn’t want to get between the two for too long, he knew Akaashi would gripe about how he wasn’t respecting the tea (which he got, he’d feel the same about anyone who scoffed down his bread or cakes without bothering to taste.)  
  
He drained the last of his drink, leaving only the dregs, and set the cup down.  
  
“I’ll let you get on.”  
  
Akaashi walked him to the door as Bokuto called “bye, Iwaizumi!”, and Iwaizumi put on his (still soaking) shoes. He decided to take the trains back, even though on any other day it took exactly the same amount of time to walk home.  
  
As he stepped out, he whipped back around, suddenly remembering what had been bugging him for the past two days.  
  
“One thing – why did you think it was a good idea to tell Oikawa to grovel for a date?!”  
  
Akaashi quirked an eyebrow. “Because of what you told me.”  
  
“What _I_ told you?!”  
  
“When we were eating yakitori two weeks ago. Do you not recall?”  
  
Iwaizumi sure as hell didn’t recall. How would grovelling even come up in—  
  
_‘He grovelled for you, I’d go out with him at least once just for that.’_  
  
It was after Shirofuku sent the photo in the group chat of Bokuto grovelling and Akaashi crouching beside him, presumably to talk him out of it. After Shirofuku and Konoha messaged Iwaizumi to say Akaashi didn’t sound sure about dating Bokuto. After Iwaizumi messaged Akaashi to come to the yakitori shop so he could yell at him about how stupid he was being.  
  
“Fuck,” Iwaizumi groaned into his hand. “ _I_ said it.”  
  
Which would mean he created the fiasco on Friday. Which would mean Oikawa was actually right to grovel for a date, because by his own stupid logic, he should have accepted – _at least one_ date.  
  
Oikawa would never let him live it down if he found out.  
  
This was what he got for agreeing to stick his nose into other people’s business – his own advice coming back on him to bite him on the ass. From here on out, he wasn’t going to get involved in anything. Not a single thing.  
  
“Akaashi. Promise me you will never tell Oikawa what I told you, or why you suggested it.”  
  
Akaashi looked as though he was judging him, and Iwaizumi stared back, wishing it was a threatening glare. It was probably a desperate appeal.  
  
“Yes, Iwaizumi-san,” he finally agreed, probably taking a rough guess at what happened and feeling sorry for him because he was the one who was going to have to deal with Oikawa on a day-to-day basis.

Iwaizumi silently thanked him with a nod.

 

*

 

When Oikawa met up with Iwaizumi at the Tokyo Skytree station with a paper bag in hand, there was a steady flow of people going in and out of the ticket gates, equal numbers of suits to casual clothing. He could see why people – couples especially – would make their way here. How could anyone pass up the chance to see the whole of Tokyo dressed in white, adorned with orange lace and a sea of coruscating sequins? The views in all directions would be breathtaking, and it would be a date to remember.  
  
Neither spoke as Oikawa led Iwaizumi outside – a dark, misty grey that was gradually being blacked out – along the main street and over the bridge, both concentrating on keeping their footing. There was also a sudden drop in people, passing only the occasional local heading home, and when Oikawa headed down the slope leading to the long strip of park that ran along a stream, it was utterly deserted. There were plenty of signs of earlier visitors – scattered footsteps and some wonky snowmen, but as they walked further along, they were soon stepping onto a crisp white sheet. Oikawa may be the epitome of a mature adult, but there was something magical about being the first to crunch into untouched snow.  
  
He reached the familiar line of benches and brushed off the thick snow that fell in dollops to the ground.  
  
“Here we are!”  
  
Oikawa sat down, with a perfect view of Skytree that was half concealed by Iwaizumi standing over him.  
  
He patted the space next to him. “Iwa-chan, sit down! Don’t worry, we won’t be here for long.”  
  
Iwaizumi moved slowly to sit next to him, leaving a small gap between them. Oikawa shuffled closer and pressed himself against his side, barely able to feel his body heat through their thick layers but finding himself warmed all the same.  
  
Oikawa liked this view. He preferred the mild blue hues of the new tower over the harsh reds of old. People would argue that the colours of the old tower were like a flame flaring up into the night sky, but Oikawa was more inclined towards the serenity of the glowing ice sculpture that suited the wintry – and today, snowy – atmosphere.  
  
Oikawa reached into the paper bag and pulled out the first of three items that were contained inside.  
  
Iwaizumi looked to the object in his hand and then back to him.  
  
“Why.”  
  
“Because it’s a date!”  
  
Iwaizumi took the bouquet – a reasonable size this time, about that of a football because it would be hard to carry around otherwise but a bouquet nonetheless – a collection of petite flowers that added colour to the black and white and grey-blue of their surroundings.  
  
“You still haven’t told me what flowers you like so you have a random selection. If none of those are your favourites, I’m going to continue giving you different flowers until I get it right.”  
  
Iwaizumi ran a hand over the flowers as if stroking it, and Oikawa felt like his heart wouldn't be able to cope if Iwaizumi continued to be so endearing.  
  
“You don’t need to guess,” Iwaizumi mumbled.  
  
Oikawa straightened up. “It’s in there? Tell me, which one?!”  
  
Iwaizumi reached out, his hand hovering before brushing his thumb over the petals of the small purple flowers peeking out from between the leaves.  
  
That was a surprising answer. “Really? Everything else about you is so predictable, but I would never have guessed you like violets.”  
  
“Yeah. They’re... really good in scones.”  
  
Oikawa blinked and rewound the sentence to make sure he did hear right.  
  
“Iwa-chan. Are we talking about _eating_ the flowers?”  
  
“Flowers add great colour and flavour to desserts, all right?” Iwaizumi said defensively. “If it was up to me they would be included in everything.”  
  
Oikawa took a moment to clear his throat to stop himself from laughing.  
  
“But none of the desserts at the tea room have any in them,” he managed, though his voice very faintly shook.  
  
“We tried in the beginning, they didn’t sell as well. So we decided to keep things simple with the food to balance out the floral flavours of the tea.”  
  
“That’s rather discouraging,” Oikawa said, his humour dissolving with his disappointment of not being able to have a taste. “I don’t think I’ve tried many desserts with edible flowers – you wouldn’t be able to bake me some next time, would you? What about milk bread? _Violet cream_ milk bread – Iwa-chan, you have to bake me one of those!”  
  
“All right, all right! I’ll… see what I can do.”  
  
From the way he said it, it was plain that Iwaizumi was concealing his delight by pretending to find it irritating.  
  
Oikawa pulled out item number two – the same brown paper bag he received from Iwaizumi yesterday (though it was considerably lighter after he transferred all but one of the milk breads into his fridge at home.)  
  
This time Iwaizumi’s irritation was genuine.  
  
“Are you for real? You’re making me the third wheel of my own date?”  
  
“Silly Iwa-chan.” Oikawa also pulled out the final item – a flask – and handed it to him. “It’s a double date. I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”  
  
Iwaizumi took the flask, unscrewing the lid to release the scent of coffee that immediately filled the damp air. Oikawa bit into the milk bread and almost closed his eyes again – it was impossible to tire of this taste. If he could live off it, he would.  
  
“When you suggested Skytree, I imagined we’d be dining at one of those fancy restaurants on the top floors, not sitting on a bench in the freezing cold with coffee and milk bread,” Iwaizumi admitted.  
  
“Skytree is overrated as a place for a date,” Oikawa said, waving his hand at the tower ahead. “Can you imagine being up there on a day like this? It would be jam packed with people and we’d hardly be able to breathe. Neither of us would enjoy the view because we’d be too busy becoming annoyed with everyone else, and we’d both end the date as soon as we stepped off the elevator. Not a very good impression for a first date I have to say.”  
  
They fell into silence again, alone together in a world that was still. No whir of engines or clunking footsteps, no evening caws or rustling leaves. Even the trickling stream that ran just over a mile long had been frozen into place. There was only the sound of cold breaths being hauled in and warm breaths pushed out, a quiet sip between rhythmic chewing, an occasional sharp sniff or cough cracking the motionless air.  
  
For Oikawa, his heartbeat pounded loud in his ears and against his chest and through his veins, until he couldn’t stand the sound any longer.  
  
“Iwa-chan—”  
  
“Oikawa.”  
  
Oikawa looked to Iwaizumi, whose surprised expression likely reflected his own.  
  
Oikawa didn’t need to ask permission, and neither did he need to be asked. Iwaizumi must have realised the same, because he leaned forward, slowly, closer, only this time Oikawa was reciprocating, closing his eyes just as their lips brushed, both pausing at the initial touch and then sinking into the kiss. Iwaizumi was as he imagined him to be, careful and steady, constantly adjusting to Oikawa’s gentle demands of being let in, of being allowed to explore his way around the delicious mix of coffee and cream and as the strong base Iwaizumi, who tasted staunch and sturdy, but also soft and amenable when it came to doing what Oikawa asked of him.  
  
Iwaizumi’s fingers threaded through his hair. Unlike the usual forceful push of hunger or sharp tugs of desperation, Iwaizumi did neither, only supported him as they sank deeper, fingers moving in a way that almost resembled feeling through flour – respectful and refined. To make things fair, Oikawa rested his hand along Iwaizumi’s jaw and around the curve of his neck, stubble grazing his thumb, hair prickling his fingers, and he felt a shudder beneath his fingertips that had him smiling. Iwaizumi must have felt it because he withdrew his tongue and scraped Oikawa’s bottom lip with his teeth.  
  
Oikawa whimpered, an embarrassingly high-pitched little protest which made Iwaizumi take pity, returning to indulge him with a kiss chaste and sweet; it was like tasting the last mouthful of dessert after scraping off the remaining morsels with a spoon, leaving him somewhat satisfied yet already craving for another.  
  
Iwaizumi pulled away; Oikawa surfaced for air. Neither spoke as their heavy breathing echoed in the night.  
  
“Perfect?” Oikawa breathed.  
  
Iwaizumi nodded. “Perfect.”  
  
They smiled.  
  
“So… is the plan to stay out all night?” Iwaizumi asked.  
  
“Even though that kiss was unbelievably hot, I’m starting to feel a little chilly. My place isn’t far from here – not that I’m suggesting we take things further,” Oikawa quickly added. “We could pick up something to eat along the way, maybe put on a film or some music. And then later a few more of what we just did between some coffee and milk bread.”  
  
Iwaizumi smiled slowly. “I’d like that.”  
  
Oikawa folded the empty paper bag into a neat square and popped it into his bag.  
  
“I don’t know what’ll happen when we get to yours,” he heard Iwaizumi say. “But… let’s take it easy and do whatever feels right.”  
  
“For the both of us,” Oikawa added. He held out his hand for the flask.  
  
Iwaizumi frowned, pulling the flask away. “This is my date.”  
  
Oikawa gaped at him. “I brought that for us to share!”  
  
“I didn’t see you sharing your milk bread.”  
  
“That’s because it is my lifeline and my stock is limited. Unless you feel like giving me a set date on when the next batch will come in, in which case I may consider offering you a bite when we reach my apartment.” Oikawa tried to make a grab for the flask again, only to have Iwaizumi pull it away further. “It’s freezing out here, let me have a sip!”  
  
“Yeah, it is freezing. And my date is really warm.”  
  
“ _Iwa-chan!_ Don’t make me beg for my own coffee!”  
  
Oikawa expected an ‘it’s mine now!’ instead of a visible shift in manner, the cocky smirk flickering and his gaze averting to the side.  
  
Oikawa leaned in, scanning Iwaizumi’s face for more clues. “Iwa-chan, what was that?”  
  
“What do you mean ‘what was that’?” Iwaizumi asked gruffly, turning his head away.  
  
“I mean, what are you trying to hide?”  
  
“What’re you talking about, Asskawa, why would I be hiding anything?”  
  
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll—”  
  
Iwaizumi’s lips were pressed forcefully against his, which disappeared as quickly as it came.  
  
Oikawa stilled, blinking at the unexpected gesture. “Don’t think that’s going to deter me from—”  
  
His lips were back again, this time tender and heartfelt, tasting almost like an apology; the sound as their lips parting hung in the air between them.  
  
“I’ll bake you milk bread every single week, without fail, indefinitely, if you let it drop,” Iwaizumi murmured.  
  
The offer took him aback; Oikawa weighed out the options.  
  
“That’s cheating, Iwa-chan. You know I can’t resist such an offer.”  
  
Iwaizumi held out the flask with a victorious grin, and in exchange Oikawa offered his own hand, lacing their fingers together so he wouldn’t be empty handed.  
  
It was cute, Oikawa thought, smiling to himself as they retraced their footsteps towards the exit, how Iwaizumi believed Oikawa wouldn’t find out. But for now he would let it be, content with having Iwaizumi beside him, and confident of the fact that even though they would have to untangle their hands eventually, their feelings would only entwine as time went on, into an intricate plait that was both clumsy and elegant, ready to be proofed again and then gradually baked to reach the golden brown of a perfect loaf of bread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading until the end! And a big thank you to those of you who were around from the beginning to see it through, and to those of you leaving comments along the way - I really do love reading your thoughts on the story's development and what parts had the most impact :3
> 
> I always planned for this to be a companion piece to Steeped in You, however I never expected the story to become so enriched with this much detail. Because of this, I’m actually very sad it has come to an end - maybe even more so than the first one. The first was more about Akaashi overcoming his past, but this was where Iwaizumi and Oikawa really matured as characters, and it’s hard for me to let the attachment go. 
> 
> Which leads me onto if there will be more to the series.
> 
> Short answer - yes! I’m not ready to say goodbye to this world quite yet.
> 
> Long answer - there is a potential ‘short’ story (I say ‘short’ with caution because technically this was also supposed to be short) involving the big question hanging around the comedy duo. I’ve been debating whether or not to write it since the drafting stage which, considering it was way back in the summer and I’m still thinking about it, I should probably just go ahead with. Besides that though, I can’t see anything other than one shots at the moment and I don’t have any specific ideas. So! If there’s anything extra you’d like to see - past Akaashi, future Iwaoi, how Konoha tried to keep it together while all this was going down - let me know and we’ll see how much of this world we can build :3
> 
> Alternatively, there are other BokuAka and IwaOi fic ideas I’ve been toying with which could get written. Either way, I really will be taking a break this time round.
> 
> Finally (I’m nearly done here) - if you enjoy having a look at other people’s notebooks/notes (I enjoy it a lot :x) I’m doing a thing over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/yozra_teru) of how I write my fics, where I basically post photos of my (messy, half crossed out) drafts where you can see the original direction of the story, skeletal dialogue, what stayed, what was scrapped, etc. I’ll be splitting my big pile o’ notes over a few tweets so please pop in over there and say hi as well :)
> 
> Until next time♡


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